Grace Like Rain
by WritePassion
Summary: It's a new day and time for Michael to get back in the game. Sam has forgiven him for pulling that gun, but until he can forgive himself and heal the hurts, he's stuck. Can Maddie and Sam help?
1. Chapter 1

_A sequel of sorts to Staring Down the Barrel. Season 6 spoilers. This takes place between episodes 6x01 and 6x02._

_Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it._

**Grace Like Rain**

By WritePassion

_Sometimes you do things, things so out of character and evil, that afterwards you look back and wonder what was going through your head at the time. You feel such shame for what you've done, certain that there was no excuse for losing control, because everyone knows you and expects you to be on top of things all the time. You let them down. You let yourself down. When you start going down that road, two things will happen: your best friend won't leave you alone, and your mother will try to fix things. Only, there's nothing that words or a bandage can repair. Not until I get Fiona out of jail and clear her name can everything be right again._

"Michael?"

The door squeaked when she pushed it open and Madeline Westen entered her son's loft without permission. That never stopped anyone before, and it certainly wouldn't keep her from checking up on him. After Fiona's arrest and her son nearly killing Sam, she was worried. Deeply worried. She tried calling him, but he didn't pick up. So she got into the car, and despite how rattled she was by the intruder in her home, Maddie went to see him, to try to work this out together. On the drive there, she wondered to herself if she was partly to blame for all this, because she never showed Michael the kind of support he needed. She was always too busy dabbing at her own physical and emotional wounds to deal with his. And now he'd gone over the line.

"Michael?" She approached the bed and saw him lying face down. She checked. He was breathing, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She heard a noise and turned. Sam came down the stairs and crossed the room, and she was happy that her son wasn't alone.

"Maddie, what are you doing here?" Sam spoke softly. He stopped in front of her and noted the tears welling up in her eyes, and he opened his arms to take her in and hold her. "He's okay. Are you?"

She didn't answer at first. Sam felt the tension in her shoulders and back, and he knew. He just let her cry into his shirt, knowing it would look like a mess later, but he didn't care because he'd already wrinkled himself by sleeping on the couch in his clothes. No one had the time to consider the trauma she'd been through. Sam was sure that Jesse did what he could after the fact, but she needed her family. Too bad Michael was incapacitated by his own crisis, and Nate, who knew where he was in the middle of this. As a surrogate son, Sam was her last resort.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she cried as she pulled away and patted the wet spot she created on his chest. Streaks of mascara marred the material.

"It's okay. They've got a great laundry crew at the hotel. Now, have you had any breakfast yet?"

"No. I can't eat, I'm too..." Tears built up again, but she stubbornly blinked them away. A huge sigh came out of her. "I had to come see Michael, to know he was okay."

"He'll be alright, in time. And so will you, Maddie." He put a hand behind her back and led her to a stool, and he wordlessly urged her to sit. She did, and he moved behind the bar, opened the fridge, and took out some eggs and vegetables. "I'll make us a little something I like to call a Sammy scrammy."

A small laugh came out of her. "What's that?"

"Like a cross between a Denver omelet and scrambled eggs. It'll be good for ya, and I'll force some down Mike too when he wakes up." Sam worked as quietly as he could. "Did you get any rest at all?"

"Some. I spent more time tossing than really sleeping."

"Yeah, I know what that's like. I couldn't sleep so I came by to check on Mike. Good thing I was here." He told her what happened, how Michael broke down in his arms. "Afterwards, he went right out and he's still asleep. Me, I didn't get as much rest as I would have liked, but it was enough so I can function. Mike needs every wink he can get considering how his day went."

"I know what you mean." Maddie pulled out a cigarette, hesitated putting the flame to the end, and remembered how Michael hated her smoking in the loft. "I'll be out on the balcony."

"Okay." His phone rang, and Sam picked up on the second ring. Maddie hesitated, waiting to see if it was good or bad news. "Yeah." He listened for a moment. "He's still asleep, Pearce, and I'd like to keep him that way for a little while. It was a rough day yesterday, and a rough night. So if you've got something for him, unless armageddon will rain down on us if he doesn't do it, he's not gonna be your trained monkey and come at your bidding." He paused. "Sorry, but that's just the way it is... and I don't care if you burn him for it. The man needs a break! Just give him one day, and you'll have that much more intel on where Anson is, while Mike recharges his batteries. Okay?"

As Madeline listened, her esteem for Sam went up several notches. She knew that this man loved her son as if he were his brother, and his gruff speech proved it again. After all, how many people would be so protective after the subject of such love pulled a gun on them less than twenty four hours ago? She wanted to hug him, but she settled for coming around and stirring the eggs and vegetables that Sam dumped into the frying pan just before Pearce called.

"I'll let you know when he's ready! In the meantime, do what you can to find Anson." He hung up, not even waiting for a reply. He spied Maddie watching him and he abruptly turned toward the stove. He took the spatula from her. "It's okay, I've got it."

"That was really wonderful what you just did."

"This? It's just breakfast."

She smiled and caressed his cheek. "You know that's not what I was talking about." With a small shake of her head, she returned to her seat and watched him work. "You bought him some time."

"Yeah, Pearce is probably spitting nails right now, but tough." Sam muttered, "It's about time the agency did a little work to protect one of their own instead of leaving him out in the cold to take care of things himself." He turned and looked at Maddie. "Your run of the mill CIA agent doesn't have bad guys going after his family and friends, so there's not much need for them to do anything. But Mike does, and Anson is a threat not just to him and us, but the agency as well. I only hope that Pearce sees that now."

Sam finished up the eggs, made some toast, and laid everything out on the table while Maddie went to wake her son. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and spoke softly, afraid to startle him. "Michael, it's time for you to get up."

"Mmm, don't wanna get up, Ma." He muttered the words in a tone that reminded her of when he was a child and didn't want to go to school because some bully had been harassing him. She recalled that when Michael learned to defend himself he lost his fear of the bully. No one ever bothered him again, and he became the family protector against his father, an even bigger bully. But before that happened, he was such a sweet, vulnerable boy, and as he lay there, he looked that way again.

She sat on the edge, caressed his hair, and said, "Sam made breakfast, honey. Why don't you try a few bites before it gets cold?"

One eye opened and stared at her. "Sam? He's here?"

"Ever since last night." Maddie smiled. "Come on, get up, Michael."

She moved out of the way so he could stand. Red creases marked his chest and stomach where the sheet bunched up underneath him during the night. He'd obviously not been sleeping as soundly as Sam let on. He threw on a t-shirt lying at the foot of the bed and shuffled across the floor to sit at the table.

"Mornin', Mikey!" Sam poured him a cup of coffee then filled his and Madeline's cups before returning the pot to the machine. He tried to maintain a cheerful front, but when he looked at his friend, he found it hard. "Looks like you got some rest. That's good." He sat across from him.

Michael shrugged. "I suppose I did okay. Sam, I..."

"No, I don't wanna talk about it right now. I just want to get a good meal in you, get you cleaned up, and take it easy today. No cases, no pursuing. Pearce is on the job now, and she'll help find Anson." He looked up from his plate and met Michael's eyes. "Look, I know this isn't easy for you, but just try for one day to relax and take your mind off things."

"I can't. Not with Fi in jail!" His voice rose to a shout. "Anson is out there, and I can't let him get away!"

Sam mentally wanted to count to ten but only made it to five before replying softly, "Don't worry about Fi. After breakfast, I'm gonna make some calls and see if I can pull a few strings to let you see her."

Michael's head flew up and he blinked away the tears. That was happening way too frequently. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course." Sam looked at him like it wasn't up for debate. "Just eat something, get yourself together, and I'll see what I can do. Maddie, can you stay here with him? I want to run back to the hotel and change, and I'll grab a few things so I can stay here for a few days with Mike." He snapped his fingers and he grinned. "Better yet, why don't you both come with me? I'll spring a suite for you guys. Get away from this place for a little while, and maybe it'll help."

"I don't know. Maybe familiar is good right now," Maddie protested.

"If that were the case, you'd be at home."

She was busted, and she knew it. "Well, I have a hole in my ceiling that needs to be fixed, and a floor to clean. But I'm here because Michael needs me."

"You need each other. I just think that spending time somewhere else, someplace safe, will be good for both of you."

Maddie left her half eaten plate and picked up her purse. "I'll meet you over at the hotel later." She turned back and hugged Michael to herself, then kissed the top of his head. "You take care, honey, I'll see you at the hotel."

"Bye, Mom." He waited until she was out of earshot to speak again. "I'm glad she's gone," Michael said with a morose tone. "I love her dearly, but I'm afraid she's too... protective."

"That's why I think getting you two out of your usual element will be a good thing," Sam said. He picked up the dirty dishes and took them to the sink. "You owe it to yourself to rest. There's nothing you can do about either Anson or Fi until we have more intel on him and clearance to see her." He stepped up behind Michael and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders. They tensed up immediately. "See?" He squeezed them until Michael relented. "You're way too tense. Go, get yourself ready, and pack for overnight. Just give it one day. I guarantee you'll love this hotel, it's one of the best in South Beach, if not the best! The massages alone are... well, you would know if you bothered to use the gift certificate I gave you awhile back."

Michael stood and headed for the bathroom. "Yeah, yeah, it's around here somewhere." He disappeared inside, closed the door, and a few seconds later, Sam heard water running.

"Good. One step at a time." He returned to the sink and finished cleaning up breakfast. By the time he was done, the shower was still running. _I'll give him a few more minutes, then check on him._ Sam picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn't called in a long time. He wasn't even sure it was still valid. Not until he heard the voice on the other end. "Hi, Alan, it's Sam. Sam Axe."

"This must be big, Sam. You haven't called in years, not even a Christmas card. I'm hurt."

Sam ignored the light tone in his old friend's voice. "Sorry, man. This is serious business. I need a favor."

"What is it?" A sense of urgency weighed down his words.

"I have a friend, Michael Westen, and his girlfriend Fiona Glenanne is being held in an FBI facility here in Miami..."

"Oh yes, the Irish national who blew up the British consulate and killed the two guards."

Sam let out a breath. He could tell that Alan would probably put the brakes on his request, but he was willing to try anyway. "Mike needs to see Fiona. She's his life, Al. It's like... like Melissa."

Alan let out a breath that sounded over the phone. "Oh, Sam, don't. Please don't throw that at me."

"You would have done anything for her. If she'd been held in a high security jail, you would have done everything you could to see her, wouldn't you? Hell, you'd do everything you could to get her out of there, especially if she'd been falsely accused!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Fi's been framed by Anson Fullerton. He's a..."

"I know about Anson."

Now it was Sam's turn to react. "You do?"

"She mentioned him in her interview with Agent Bly. We borrowed him from the CSS, since he was so familiar with Westen and Ms. Glenanne. She claimed that Anson set her up."

"He did!" Sam's mind raced, wondering how much his old friend knew, and wondering if he could get some information from him without compromising his position in the bureau.

"The bureau is working with several other agencies attempting to get to the bottom of this. We'll figure out the signatures on the bombs, and if they don't match Ms. Glenanne's, she'll probably be free to go."

"Probably. What does that mean?"

"We need more evidence to either try her or set her free." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't even be telling you all this, but we go way back, and I trust you. If you truly believe that she's innocent, I'll do what I can for her."

"Thanks, Al. That really means a lot to me, even after all this time."

"We're friends, Sammy. And you've saved my butt a couple of times. I owe you!" Sam could hear him shift in his leather chair. "So, back to the original reason you called. You want me to get permission for Michael Westen to visit Ms. Glenanne in jail. Seriously?"

"You know I wouldn't ask for something like this if I wasn't, Al."

Alan sighed, the breath sounding like a buzz over the line. "I'll see what I can do. But you can bet the second I start poking into this, somebody's gonna stick their head up and start sniffing around. My bet would be Tom Card."

That was a name Sam hadn't heard in a long, long time, and he was pretty happy about it until now. "Just do your best to keep him out of it. I never liked that guy, and yeah, he was like Mike's mentor and all, but I just don't trust him. The last thing Mike needs is that drill sergeant reject on his back."

"I can't make any guarantees, Sam. I'll do my best. Is this the number where I can reach you?"

"Yeah, or you can call and leave a message at the South Beach Riviera Hotel. I'm staying there for awhile. But only use that number as a last resort." He gave Alan the number and his extension. "I'll be in touch."

"I bet you will. After this, you owe me. Basketball tickets, in Miami, next season." Alan chuckled.

"You got it, buddy." Sam heard feet moving across the wood floor. The water was no longer running in the bathroom. He turned and saw that Michael was dressed. "You look better, Mike."

"Thanks." He tossed a small suitcase onto the bed and packed without a word. Meanwhile, Sam hoped the idea of a day spent doing nothing would be a cure for Michael's mental health issues. For the rest they needed a good plan, and until one came about, they were best off to lay low.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_I always knew Sam was a good friend, the best, actually. I thought I'd blown that friendship up yesterday when I threatened his life. How could I have done that? He was only looking out for me, I know that! Have my obsessions possessed me so deeply that I wouldn't blink an eyelash to kill the ones I love, just so I can get what I want? What is wrong with me? I don't know how he can even stand there in the same room with me, breathe the same air, and not look at me with complete disgust. It's pity I see in his eyes. Brotherly love. And a grace that I certainly don't deserve._

Instead of taking Michael and Maddie to the front desk to check them in, Sam led them directly to the elevator. Maddie looked at him strangely. So did Michael, and Sam knew they both wondered if he'd prearranged everything. But no, he was coming up with this on the fly. He just hoped that Elsa would be okay with it. He took out his keycard, swiped it in front of a panel inside the elevator, and the car moved upward and didn't stop until they reached the penthouse. The doors opened on a foyer, and an older man in a dark suit waited at the entrance with a dutiful smile.

"Welcome home, Mr. Axe. I wasn't aware you were having guests."

"Yes, Andrew, these are my friends, Madeline and Michael Westen. Maddie, Mike, this is our butler, Andrew."

Michael raised his eyebrow as he acknowledged Andrew. _Sam has access to the penthouse of one of South Beach's best hotels, with a butler at his beck and call? He really upgraded on his latest sugar mommy! _"Andrew, nice to meet you."

"And you, Mr. Westen. Mr. Axe has told me about you and your mother." His eyes roved to Madeline, and he gave her a warm smile that caused her to grin and blush. "Allow me to take your luggage. I assume that Mr. Westen," he spoke and eyed Maddie again with an appreciative gaze, "and Mrs. Westen will be staying here for awhile?"

"At least overnight, Andrew. I'll need some extra keycards for them."

"Of course, Sir. I'll get those after I settle the Westens into their rooms." Andrew picked up their suitcases and took them to a couple of rooms to the right of a large living area. Maddie's went into one, and Michael's the other. He emerged and asked, "Would anyone care for anything?"

"We're good, Andrew. You know we can take care of ourselves." Sam smiled at him, and Andrew nodded.

"Alright, Sir. I'll get those keycards for you." Andrew called the elevator and took it to the lobby.

"So, what do you think?" Sam swept an arm out to show off the wall of windows facing the ocean. "Your rooms have a great view of the south and west. The fridge is well-stocked with whatever you want, and if it's not there, let Andrew know. He'll get it." He cocked his head toward a kitchenette with full size appliances. A large counter separated the kitchenette from the living area.

Michael and Maddie took in the rich modern furnishings in pastel blue, aqua, and peach accenting the white sand colored walls. The perfect cerulean blue sky outside helped to bathe everything in a slight blue tint. The room was as neat as could be, almost impersonal, but photos displayed on tables scattered around the room, and a large photo album on the coffee table helped to add an air of personality to the place. A life-size portrait of Elsa and Sam hung above a gas fireplace near the master suite. Maddie studied it from where she stood. They'd never met the elusive Elsa, so it piqued her interest. The couple looked so happy together sitting on a sand dune, wearing white pants and matching shirts, their feet half buried in the grains of sand. Tall blades of grass swayed around them. Elsa reclined against Sam, his arms were around her midsection, and she crossed her arms and covered his hands with hers. The setting sun bathed their smiling faces with a warm glow, and behind them, the sky over the ocean showed its dusky blues and fluffy clouds painted in red, orange, and mauve.

"Isn't that a great picture? Elsa's brother took it. He's a professional photographer, takes pics of celebrities out in LA, but he was visiting a few months ago and asked to do our portrait." He locked on Elsa's face, and the smile that graced his spoke volumes.

"It's nice. Makes me even more interested in meeting Elsa." She said with a smile.

"Yeah, I just talked to Andrew. She had to take care of some staffing issues here at the hotel, but she should be up soon. Elsa's something else. She doesn't just live off her family's money. She takes a lot of interest in how this place is run." He moved toward the kitchenette. "Anybody hungry? It's almost lunch time."

Maddie shook her head, but Michael didn't answer. He stood at the windows, peering out at the view, mesmerized by it. All the while he wondered what Fiona's view was at the moment. Probably bars and concrete. Lots of concrete.

"Mike, here, gotta keep hydrated," Sam said as he handed Michael a glass. When Michael tore his eyes away from the panorama, he added. "It's just ice water."

"Thanks, Sam." Michael's eyes locked on him and wouldn't move.

"Is something wrong?" Sam took a sip of his own drink, an iced tea.

He gave Sam one of his patent smiles that he often used to gloss over conflict or tense moments. "No, nothing's wrong. Well, in the grander sense, yes, but in this moment in time..."

He didn't need to hear any more. Sam understood. He clamped a hand on his shoulder and said, "It's okay, Mike. You know how this works, the good guys always win. We'll get Anson, and we'll get Fi released. It might just take some time. Until then, you need to regroup, get over what happened yesterday, and look ahead."

"How can you be so casual about it?" Michael narrowed his eyes at Sam as he spoke through gritted teeth. "I could have killed you! And for one second, one tiny second, I put a little too much pressure on that trigger." He shook his head. "I don't know why it didn't go off, but I thank God it didn't."

"It wasn't my time yet, obviously." Sam gave him a casual smile. "Come on, let's go get our suits on and hit the pool! Or you can take a dip in the jacuzzi and boil yourself for awhile. Anything to pretend for just one day that you're on vacation and there's an impenetrable little bubble around you, protecting you and those you love from danger."

"It's not that easy for me."

He'd been staring at the streets below, but when Michael looked up at Sam, there was a haunted, hollow expression in his eyes. It came from more than just missing Fiona. He was still suffering from his knee-jerk reactions. But Sam knew he could talk to him until he was blue, and it wouldn't matter. Michael Westen had a guilt complex that wouldn't quit once it got embedded into his brain. Only time could cure him of it, and letting him talk about it in his own time. That was why Sam brought him to the hotel. He wanted to do whatever he could to clear things up and lead Mike back to himself.

At the moment, deflection seemed as good a tactic as any. "Well, let's all go down to the pool. Get some exercise."

"That's a great idea!" Maddie came out of her room already changed. "Sam, these are some really nice rooms! Thank you for bringing us here!" She grinned at him as she approached, put out her hands and laid them on Michael's shoulders. She turned him toward his own room. "Now go, get into your swimming trunks! Don't make me force you!"

"Yeah, and I'll help," Sam added to the threat. "Force you, that is."

Michael glanced at Sam, his eyes slid to his mother's glare, and back to each of them. "Okay, fine." He passed between them, set his glass on an end table, and moved toward the room.

Maddie looked up at Sam. "That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"Deep down he knows it's the right thing to do. We've got nothing to work with right now, so there's no sense in running ourselves ragged all over town with no leads or direction. If he's really thinking that rationally, that's a good sign." Sam moved to the master suite and turned. "I'll be out in a minute." He disappeared and came out not long after Michael emerged from his room.

They went down to the ground floor and Sam led them to the pool area. The pool was large and the area around was well covered with lounge chairs, tables, chairs and umbrellas. Sam dropped his towel onto one of the lounges. Maddie took one to his right, and Michael settled his towel on the opposite lounger. Sam kicked off his flip flops, dropped his shirt on the foot of his, and walked to the deep end where he dove in head first.

Michael watched and muttered, "I guess that's about the best way to start." He stripped off his shirt and shorts and followed Sam, and caught up with him by the end of the first lap. Neither of them said anything as they swam back and forth. He caught sight of his mother sitting on the lounge with a magazine and a cigarette, hiding behind a large straw hat and sunglasses. An economy sized bottle of sunscreen lay on the concrete deck between her chair and Sam's. She peered over the top of the magazine, and he knew she wasn't reading. She was keeping her eye on him.

After five or six laps and the stress of the past few days, Michael felt exhausted and was done. He made it to the shallow end, climbed up the concrete steps, and stepped into the hot tub a few feet away. He slowly dipped himself into the water, stretched his arms out along the rim, and let his head fall back against the edge. He was able to stay that way for awhile, and then he sensed a shadow fall over him. He opened his eyes a little to see Sam staring.

"You okay, Mikey?" He bent down and handed him his sunglasses.

Michael took them, nodded and said, "Yeah. I'd be even better if you didn't drip on me." He covered his eyes with the sunglasses and resumed his position.

"Ah, sorry." Sam used a hand to whisk his wet hair back as he stepped away, put on his own sunglasses, and took the steps to enter the water. "Oh man, this is hot! Hot! Hot! Ohhh!" He stayed anyway and settled in across from his friend. "Wow. You really wanna punish yourself, don't you?"

"You don't have to babysit me, Sam. I'm fine."

"You weren't fine yesterday."

"I thought you didn't want to bring that up." Michael raised his head off the edge. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes flashed and his voice rose with each syllable. "I thought you wanted me to 'relax'. Well, I'm trying that, but it's hard enough without..."  
"Hey, hey, Mike, settle down," Sam held a hand up as he slowly got off the concrete bench as if he were attempting to approach a wild animal. People nearby watched with interest, but they quickly went back to their own lives. He crossed the small jacuzzi and sat down, leaving about three feet distance between them. With Mike in this state, he had to give himself room to put up a defense if necessary. He realized that working with Mike was going to be like defusing a landmine, and he wondered if he was up to the task, but if he didn't do it, who would? "Maybe we should talk about this."

"As far as Fi is concerned, I'm not ready to talk about it. And what I did to you, I'm sorry. I said that already, and if you didn't believe me, then, well, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

Sam grabbed his friend's arm hard enough to get Michael to face him. His gaze bored into him as he said, "I've already forgiven you for that, Mike. Now you've got to forgive yourself."

"I've seen you hold a grudge. Look at Mack." He saw a brief shadow of something flit across Sam's features when he mentioned the name.

"That's different. Yes, I've forgiven him too, but that doesn't mean I forgot about it." He licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. "And when I do remember, I have to fight the temptation all over again to not let the hate and the hurt take over, to undo all the forgiving I did."

"So you'll have to do that for me?"

"Maybe." A slight smile spread across his face. "It'll just be a whole lot easier with you, Mikey. I'm sorry, I'm not God. I play favorites." _If I were God, I'd make this all go away!_

Michael smiled and a small chuckle came out of him. "Really. You seem to have the all-knowing part down."

"Ah, see, you're already getting a part of yourself back. I missed the dry remarks."

Nodding and falling silent, Michael turned away and studied the other people lounging around the pool area. "I don't know how to forgive myself, Sam."

"Well, maybe start with why you did it. You were devastated by Fi turning herself in, and you were obsessed with capturing Anson at all costs. Somewhere in your mind, things changed. You always used to think of the ramifications of your plans. But this time you didn't, and, I really hate to say it, but you... it was like watching Larry possess you or something."

"Strange. I felt like I was possessed. Or that I was outside myself, watching me, watching me go out of control and not being able to stop it." He let out a breath and clung to the edge of the deck again, barely keeping his head above water. "I still feel like that, Sam. Until something happens that I can control, I don't think it's ever going to change."

"You have to get used to the fact that there are a lot of things happening that neither you nor I can do anything about. There are forces at work, forces beyond the two of us."

"So I'm supposed to just sit here in this hot tub, wrinkle my skin, and take it?" His volume rose again to uncomfortable levels.

"Shh. Just for today, Mike. Let it all go, because until you do, you're not going anywhere. You can't continue to function like this, and you know it. Once you get your head straight, then we can work on seeing Fi. Maybe if you can visit her and clear things up, other things will not seem so... bleak."

"Mr. Axe?"

Sam looked up and noticed the young man standing near the edge. "Yes, Edward? Neither of us want a drink right now."

"Sorry to bother you, Sir, but Ms. Holloway wanted me to give you a message. She had to leave town suddenly."

Sam pushed himself to his feet, creating a small wake in the bubbling water. "What? What happened? Where'd she go?"

"She had to take care of an issue with the hotel in New York. She wanted me to tell you not to worry, that she would be back in a few days, and she hoped that the two of you could have dinner with Mr. Westen and his mother."

"Oh. You're sure everything's okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Axe." Edward smiled reassuringly.

"Alright. Thanks." Sam dunked himself slowly into the hot water and shook his head. "It's not like Elsa to just jet off like that. Must be something serious." He paused and watched Edward return to the hotel lobby. "You know her dad is still alive, he's like ninety something. He lives in New York, and... never mind." He flapped a hand in dismissal.

"You were worried that maybe something happened to him?"

"Yeah." He settled against the wall. "I met him once on a trip to NYC with Elsa. He's a nice old guy, never let the money spoil him. I don't think he was too thrilled with me at first, but when I gave him a few pointers on skeet shooting and it improved his aim, he thought I was okay." He smiled. "Ninety years old, Mike, and the guy's really got it together. Although, Elsa keeps trying to nudge him to come down here and spend the last of his years in Miami."

"It sounds like Elsa has a good relationship with her dad."

Sam read the envy in his voice. _Great, just one more thing for him to feel rotten about!_ "Yeah. She's a lot like him. The money is a tool, but if it all went away, I think she'd be okay with it. Her brother's the same way. They were raised well, no nannies, and their folks were hands-on parents." He sighed, thinking about his own upbringing. "Anyway, where were we?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's a good thing for now," Michael said. "Frankly, I'm ready to get out of this cauldron and go back into the pool." He abruptly popped up, stepped out of the hot tub, and hurried to the side of the pool.

"Mike, you're crazy," Sam muttered, too softly for Michael's ears, which was just as well. He followed him and watched as Michael jumped in and came up shivering.

"You're not coming in?"

"Not until I've cooled off a bit first."

Without another word, Michael turned away and swam some more laps.

Sam went over to the lounges and sat on his.

"How is he," Maddie asked. She put her magazine down and eyed Sam over her sunglasses.

"He needs to learn how to forgive himself for what happened. And I think he needs to let go of all the anger he has towards me and Fi going behind his back. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he will if I have any say, and before we go out on another mission. End of story."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Michael fell asleep on the lounger after he tired himself in the pool. Sam and Maddie kept an eye on him and woke him long enough to turn so he wouldn't burn, and Maddie put more sunscreen on his body. He seemed oblivious to all of it, but deep inside, he was aware of everything. He listened to them talk about him, and he knew it was underhanded, but he really wanted to just divorce himself from reality for awhile and ride the emotions, even if they were scary. Their voices were like a beacon that kept him safe from his dark thoughts. Otherwise, if he had access to a gun and a range right now, he'd tear through the targets, imagining each one bore a likeness of Anson on them. Maybe that would make him feel better. If it didn't, what then?

Maddie massaged the sunscreen into Michael's shoulders and back, eyeing the scars from past missions and thinking about the internal ones that no one ever saw, the ones that Michael pushed down deep inside for so long that festered and were now coming to the surface. His losing Fi and being so close to getting Anson were the catalysts that finally caused everything to burst out of him.

"Sam, I'm worried about Michael."

"I know. So am I." He waved Edward over.

"A mojito, Mr. Axe?"

"No thanks, just some iced tea, please."

Edward studied him a few seconds, but when Sam's eyebrows rose over his sunglasses, he moved. "Right away, Sir!"

"Obviously, he's not used to your drink choice," Maddie said as she wiped her hands on the corner of Michael's towel and returned to her lounger, where she sipped on her own iced tea.

"I'm swearing off alcohol until this whole thing is over. I've gotta stay sharp for Mike."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know." Sam looked over at his friend with pity in his eyes. "Right now, I'd be happy to find a way to get his head back on straight and then worry about our next step." He turned to Maddie. "Fi being in jail is a big distraction for him. The CIA bloodhounds are scouring everywhere for Anson, so when they find him, and I'm hoping they do, if Mike gets a little alone time with him, that'd do more than all the medicine in the world."

"You think he'd kill him." Maddie's face whitened. "Sam, you know he's not that kind of man!"

"Shh, Maddie, keep it down!" _What was it with this family? They couldn't get emotional without being loud?_

Her voice shook as she was close to tears. "He wouldn't just kill someone in cold blood!"

"I know that," Sam replied softly. He swung his legs off the lounge and leaned closer to her. "If he got a shot at Anson, in his mind he would be meting out justice and revenge, and I can't say I'd blame him. If I saw that weasel on the street and I had a gun in my hand, I don't think I'd be able to just say 'Freeze' and cuff him. That man... that monster... is destroying my best friend, and he's leaving a wide swath of destruction in his path. For that, he deserves a bullet and a slow painful death."

Her eyes stared at him, wide with shock and she gaped. She'd never heard him speak like that before. She could only whisper his name. "Sam."

"I'm sorry, Maddie. That's just how I feel, and I know that's how Mikey feels too. It's time to end this, if only someone could find Anson."

Hearing the words come from Sam's lips, Michael took comfort in the fact that they were on the same page. The only difference was that Sam was more practical about how to go about it. Michael would just go out and hunt him down, despite not having a clue where to begin. He could easily waste years trying to find Anson. Sam was like one of those trusty old weathervanes that sat cockeyed up on an old barn. It creaked and squealed in the wind to warn of a storm, but it always knew which way the wind blew, which way you needed to go in order to fly. All Michael had to do was trust that Sam would get the intel and help him determine where to go.

If only he were that trustworthy. Michael replayed the scene from yesterday in his head. He still couldn't believe that he'd pulled a gun on Sam. Even more frightening was that he intended to use it if Sam didn't get out of of his way. His fragile mind unsuccessfully tried to block out the work of his imagination. He could almost feel the gun in his hand, sense his finger pressing the trigger. Only this time, whatever held it back in reality let him do it, and he squeezed harder. The bullet hit its mark, Sam went down in a spray of blood that marked Michael's shirt, and suddenly there were no obstacles in his path. But he was frozen, and in the brief seconds he hesitated, hands grabbed and held him. Cuffs went around his wrists. He looked down at his friend's lifeless, bloody body, his face frozen with shock that Michael dared to shoot him. He lost Fiona, he lost Sam, and now the thing that he'd let take center stage for far too long, his career. All gone, and by his own hand. _No. Anson orchestrated this whole thing from the start. When he couldn't have me, he set about to make my life worthless. Now that he's accomplished that, what next? Where do I go from here?_

Sam heard Michael make a sound and he turned to see his friend's shoulders shaking. He quickly looked around, thankful that no one was paying attention. "Maddie, Mike needs to go upstairs now. Can you grab our stuff?"

"Sure!" She glanced over and saw that Michael buried his face in his folded arms, but she knew what was happening. She hadn't seen him cry like that since he was a little boy, and it broke her heart and kept her still in place.

"Go, Maddie!" Sam rasped as he threw on his shirt. "I'll take care of Mike." He got up, moved over to Michael's side, and put a hand on his back. "Mike. Come on, wake up."

Sam shook him gently, anticipating a violent awakening, and he wasn't disappointed. A fist flew out at him, but he caught it well before it made its mark. Then Sam sat on the edge of his lounger and held onto it with an iron grip until his friend came to his senses.

"Sam... what are you doing?"

"Trying to keep you from beating the crap out of me." He said it with a smirk, a signal to Michael that everything was okay. At least, on the surface.

"Oh, sorry about that." He pulled his fist away and Sam released it, and he slowly sat up. He swiped at the moisture under his eyes, and they were still glossy when he looked up at Sam. "What happened?"

"You were having a bad dream. Not that I blame you, with everything that's been going on lately. Come on, let's go back up to the room, and you can grab a decent nap up there."

"Thanks." He remained quiet as Sam led him inside with a hand pressed lightly into his back, as if he didn't trust him to not run off on some psychotic tear. He should have felt indignant about that lack of trust, but then, didn't he earn it? He was acting crazy at the chemical plant. Everyone knew it, and now Sam was on babysitting duty to make sure that nothing worse happened.

"Mr. Axe!" A voice came from the front desk and their heads turned to see a woman trotting over to them with a smile on her face. "Mr. Axe, you requested some extra key cards for your friends. Andrew asked me to give these to you!"

"Thanks, Giselle."

She pressed them into his open palm and left her touch linger a bit longer than necessary. "If you need anything else, just give me a call," she smiled boldly. Her eyes drifted to Michael and her smile faded, slowly replaced by a wary expression.

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

The elevator doors opened and spared them all an extension of the embarrassing scene. Maddie got in, followed by Sam and Michael. He used one of the key cards to send the elevator to the top floor. A small sigh escaped him. There would be no more interruptions or curious strangers' eyes focusing on his friend, not if he could help it.

"I'll have to suggest to Elsa that she get a private elevator for the penthouse. But she'll probably say no because she likes having exposure to the guests."

Sam turned to look at Michael. Somehow, he'd gotten himself back together and looked completely normal. But later, when the inevitable discussion was sure to come about, he wasn't sure what he would do. He wanted to keep this on the down low, because if word got out about the ex-burned spy losing his marbles, Mike's career would be over. Pearce suggested a few sessions with a CIA shrink, but after knowing that Anson used his talents as a psychotherapist to wrangle his way into Michael's life, that was a no go. Sam knew a guy from his SEAL days that he could trust, but he'd rather try to exorcise these demons himself before they brought anyone in.

Michael retreated to his room and was soon quiet. After awhile, Maddie went to check on him and ask what he wanted for dinner, but he was still asleep. She came out of the room, her brow furrowed. Sam sat in a chair near the windows, sipping on a drink. He watched her as she crossed the room and put down the magazine he was perusing.

"Is he okay, Maddie?"

"He's still asleep. If he's that depressed that he sleeps all the time..."

"I'm inclined to think it's more like he's exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted. Anybody else, and I'd suggest admitting him to the hospital for lots of rest, but you and I know that one, he'd never put up with it, and two, you can't really get quality sleep in a hospital unless you're sedated."

"You're right." She sat on the edge of the couch for a moment, then got up to pace around the large room. "Maybe we should just have dinner in. I could make something..."

"There's no reason to do that. I'll call room service. It doesn't cost us a thing."

"Oh, okay." She smiled sheepishly.

Maddie needed something to do, because she felt so helpless at the moment. Sam got up, stopped her pacing with his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "I understand, Maddie. I wanna help Mike too, but he really does need to rest before we can do anything."

"And then, what are we going to do? I don't know anything about psychology!"

_Coulda fooled me! _The way Maddie gently, and sometimes not so gently, manipulated Michael into helping her friends or doing things for her, he would have sworn she was an expert. But he recognized that it was a survival mechanism, and if anyone were to call her out on it, she would vehemently deny that she did anything.

"There's a menu in the desk drawer over there. Why don't you take a look at it and order us something." He made his way to the master bedroom. "I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back."

"Oh. Okay." Maddie found the menu.

"Pearce, pick up will you!" Sam muttered into the phone as he waited for her voice.

"Agent Pearce."

"Pearce, this is Sam. Don't say anything, just listen. Mike needs at least a couple more days. I've barely scratched the surface with him today."

"Maybe he needs professional help."

"Maybe you need a swift kick in the head! Don't you get it? You put a professional psycho doc in front of him, Mike'll take two steps back, not forward! I just needed today to let him rest. Tomorrow, we'll sit down and talk. Just him and me."

"It's just as well, because we've got nothing on Anson right now. I have a team heading to the Bahamas to look for him. Our IT team is monitoring bank activities for any sign that Anson is moving funds or even using a credit card."

"He wouldn't. He's too smart for that."

"I know, but it doesn't hurt to look. Smart people do stupid things all the time and that's often what gets them captured."

"Okay, whatever. It's your call. Just be patient with me and Mike, okay? That's all I'm asking for is a couple more days." He paused. "And if I need more I'll ask again."

She chuckled mirthlessly. "You know something, Sam? You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"What can I say? It's part of my charm," he shot back with a smile.

"Good luck. And if you need any help, I mean it, call me."

"I will. Thanks." Sam closed the connection. "I have no idea how to make this work, but I'm gonna do it." He got up and went to the living room, and he found Michael sitting on the couch with Maddie.

She smiled at Sam. "Michael's up! I ordered from the menu, and our food should be up in about a half hour."

"Great." Settling himself into a chair opposite Michael, he studied him a moment. He looked beat. "Did you overdo it in the pool?"

"No," Michael rested his head against the couch back. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight, after supper, let's do something. Play cards or something relaxing. I could call the spa and have Renee come up. She does the best massages."

"I'll think about it. Thanks."

After dinner, which they ate with some relaxing music in the background, Michael succumbed to Sam's coercion, and he found himself sprawled on the bed, covered in nothing but a towel tied around his waist, and a strange woman straddled him to work out the kinks in his back and legs. He didn't have the heart to tell her that it wouldn't work. Only later, when he woke up in the middle of the night to discover that the rooms were all dark and he felt good, did he realize that he was wrong. He was wrong about a lot of stuff lately, and he began to see that maybe it was time to confess and get it off his chest. Then things could start to go back to the way they were and as a team they could get Fiona out of jail.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam woke up and trudged to the kitchenette to get the coffee started. He wasn't sure the caffeine was good for Mike, but for himself, he certainly needed it. All night long his head was filled with dreams about the past, times when things went wrong. If someone was trying to tell him that he'd bitten off more than he could chew with Mike, all they did was give him a bad night's sleep. He was not swayed. Sam would do anything for his friend, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He was convinced that Michael was not leaving the hotel until he was back to normal, because his life depended upon it. Otherwise, everything Michael had fought for up to this point would have been for nothing, and he would be sitting in a nuthouse somewhere. Sam didn't like that picture one bit, his two favorite people locked up, both at the expense of one man's hatred.

Once the coffee was brewing, Sam turned toward the two rooms where Michael and Maddie slept. Michael's door was open a crack. He peered into the dimness and his stomach dropped. Michael wasn't in his bed. _Okay, don't panic. Maybe he's in the bathroom._ But Sam checked there, and it was also empty.

"Oh crap," he muttered, then hurried to the phone.

"Reception, Marie speaking."

"Hi, Marie. Sam Axe. Did you see a well built guy about six-one, with dark hair and blue eyes, get off the elevators from the penthouse this morning?"

"Funny you should ask. I did. Andrew said it was Mr. Westen."

"Andrew saw him too? Where'd he go?"

"Mr. Westen left the hotel and headed for the beach, I believe." She paused. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but notice him. He's handsome, but... troubled."

Sam frowned. Even strangers could see he wasn't himself. "Thanks, Marie. I'll be down in a minute, but if he comes back, you let me know."

"I'll keep an eye out for him, Mr. Axe."

"Thanks, Marie."

He let out a little groan and hurried to his room, and he quickly changed into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, slipped into a pair of well worn running shoes, and prepared to pursue Michael. Not that he'd ever really catch up, but maybe on the rebound he'd find him. As he moved toward the elevator, Maddie's door opened and her bleary eyes peered at him.

"Sam, where are you going? Michael..."

"Mike slipped out to go running. At least, I hope that's all he's going to do. I'll find him, Maddie. Don't worry!" He closed the door behind himself, stepped into the foyer, and called up the elevator. The doors opened and Andrew got out.

"Mr. Axe! Good morning, Sir!"

"Morning, Andrew. I'm looking for my friend Mike."

"He went south on the beach," Andrew replied. "After yesterday, I wasn't sure it was safe for him to go out alone, but he insisted that he was fine. He said he would be gone for an hour and would return."

"Thanks, Andrew." Sam got into the elevator and pressed the lobby button. "We'll both be back in about an hour or so. Take care of Maddie."

"I will, Sir." Andrew smiled warmly.

Sam had no doubts about Andrew. After the professional manner in which the butler handled everything he'd seen and heard yesterday, Sam knew he could count on the man to continue to keep things to himself, and he could trust him with Mike's mom. He rode to the lobby, got out, and purposefully strode to the beach. He looked south and saw a few joggers and beachcombers, but only one person sitting in the sand about a quarter mile away. Sam's shoes left impressions on the hard packed surface as he ran toward the figure.

Michael just wanted to be alone. Maybe he could wade through everything he was feeling, sort it out, and then everyone would stop feeling sorry for him and babying him. He tried running and burning off the emotions, but it didn't work anymore. There were too many things locked up inside him, and it all had to come out. Like a festering sore, it would be painful, but he had to buck up the courage to release it. These were ugly things, things he was afraid to show even his best friend. The time of reckoning was here, and he knew deep down that the only way he could move forward was to clean out the junk, no matter how unpleasant it was.

He heard the soft squish of feet pressing into the sand and the huff of hard breathing, and he looked up. He should have known he couldn't escape, that Sam would know and find him. A good chunk of him actually felt peace and took comfort in that thought.

"Morning, Sam."

"Morning, Mikey." Sam bent over, stretched a little, and plopped down onto the sand next to him. He was a little out of breath, but not too bad.

"You're getting in better shape," Michael remarked with a slight smirk.

"If I'm gonna go chasing you all over hell and back, I've gotta be." He brought up his knees and rested his arms on them, his eyes fixed on the ocean. "How long have you been here?"

Michael shrugged. "Not too long. Why?"

Sam turned his head. "I woke up and you weren't in the penthouse. I was worried." He saw Michael start to open his mouth, but he interrupted him. "No, don't even lie to me. You're not fine. Get real, Mike! You've been like the walking wounded for far too long now, and it's gonna kill you if you don't do something about it!"

"I don't know what to do, Sam! If I did, I wouldn't be in this mess! If I hadn't been so focused on getting my job and my life back, Anson wouldn't even have been in the picture. Fiona wouldn't have had to blow up Larry. It's all my fault. I should have let her take out Anson when she had him right in her sights, and we would never have been at that consulate!" Michael pressed his head to his knees and breathed as if he'd just run from his loft to the beach.

"I'm not gonna tip toe around this. Yes, you should have let her shoot Anson, but you didn't, and now we've got a whole new set of problems. We'll take care of those later." Sam laid a hand on Michael's shoulder and gently squeezed it. "Right now, you've gotta stop beating yourself up over what you did and didn't do. Acknowledging your mistake is part of forgiving yourself and letting it go. So take that leap, Mike. Forgive yourself."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Only if you make a practice of it. The hard part is continuing to forgive yourself every time these things come back up and part of you wants to punish yourself again. Forgiveness leads to healing, and healing will give you your life back. The only way that's going to happen is if you take stock of what you feel responsible for; from there, we'll work out fact from fiction, and maybe after that you can let yourself get over it."

Michael's eyes locked onto Sam's. "How do I do it?"

"You start by clearing up all this conflict." Sam pushed himself up and stood over him. "Come on, Mike. Let's take a walk."

The farther south they walked on the beach, the farther away they were from the hotels and civilization. The beach ran into a state park where Sam knew they would find peace and quiet, a place to strip away past guilt and start fresh.

"Let's stop here." Michael looked around at the white sand and blinked at the brightness that permeated his sunglasses.

"Sure." Sam found a stand of palms that provided some shade. He sat in the sand, and watched his friend sit as if he'd exhausted himself.

A heavy sigh escaped Michael as his rear end made contact with the sand. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands framing his face as he stared out at the ocean. Neither of them spoke. They just let the sounds of the waves crashing into the shore, the calls of gulls, and the swish of a soft breeze rustling through the palms serve as a stage for relaxation.

"I feel better just sitting here," Michael said eventually.

"Well, you can't stay here forever, Mikey. You can't run away from reality."

"I know. It just feels good to try, if only for a little while."

A short laugh came out of Sam. "Yeah, most people call that a vacation. Do you ever remember having one of those? I mean, in your entire adult life, have you ever taken a break?"

Michael shrugged. When he gave it a cursory thought, he realized that he hadn't. "I suppose not. Maybe a day or two here and there. Since I've been with Fi, I've probably had more down time in the past six years than I've had in the past couple of decades before that."

"Well, once this is all over, that'll have to change. You know, Fi and I have both been telling you for a long time that you need to relax." Sam paused. "But that's not important right now. We need to talk about everything that's gotten you bogged down."

Michael glanced up and around. "So, is this the confessional, Father Sam?"

Sam laughed. "Hey, I'm just trying to help. If you want to go to a priest, that's your choice." He turned sober and he turned so his eyes locked on Michael's. "I just want to do whatever I can to get this off your back so you can function again. No, not just function. I want to see you be the guy I met so long ago, the one who was serious about his job but there was a spark in your eye, a spark that said you loved what you were doing in your life."

"I..."

"No, Mike. You haven't loved anything for awhile now. Other than Fi, maybe. You've let the burdens of the burn notice drag you down, and chasing all the people involved killed something inside you. By the time you got to Anson, you'd become a shell, hell-bent on only one mission." He paused. "You know I'm all for perseverance, but you've taken it to a new level. That level is hurting you and everyone you know who loves you."

Michael nodded as he blinked away the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. He rubbed his eyes to hide them, and his voice came out in a near whisper as he spoke. "I know. Whenever I think about Fiona sitting in that jail, I know. And when I remember staring down that barrel at you, seeing the look in your eyes, I realize just how much I've wronged everyone." He bowed his head and his forehead rested on his arms. "I didn't set out to hurt or shut people out of my life. I just wanted my job back."

"We know that."

"It was like untangling a ball of string. The second I thought I had it, I'd find another knot or snag, and I'd have to work harder, because the next one was worse than the one before. If I didn't focus on the tangle, I'd never reach my goal."

"And you forgot that your friends were there to support you, not create a road block. You were, and are, never alone, Mike."

Michael sniffled and looked up at Sam with a smile on his face. "You've proven that plenty of times, and I'm sorry that I didn't always appreciate it or accept it."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. I need... I need to know that you've forgiven me, Sam."

A lump formed in Sam's throat, but he never hesitated a moment when he replied, "I forgive you Mike. I've forgiven you every time."

"Even though I don't deserve it." Michael frowned.

"Nobody deserves forgiveness. And nobody's perfect either." A smile crossed his face.

"So why do you do it? You and Fi have put up with a lot. I don't know how you stayed."

Sam leaned forward, crossed his arms on his knees, and rested his chin on them. "Believe me, there were times that I was pretty pissed at you. And there were times that I just wanted to walk away." He paused. "But I guess that's what happens when your friends love you, Mike. We put up with a lot of crap and still stick around."

He nodded and spoke, the words coming out clearly, with a hint of emotion. **"**Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

"Exactly." Sam glanced at Michael, puzzled. "Where'd you get that from? It sounds familiar."

"First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, somewhere in there." Michael gave him a small smile. "I remember our unit's chaplain reading that one time, just out of the blue, and he said to me, 'Michael, never forget this. It may save your life some day.' Strange, I thought at the time. Now I'm not so sure."

"There's a lot of truth in that."

"Yes. All through these past few years, both you and Fi have been the live version of those words, yet I never saw it. I'm an idiot."

"No, you were blind. Something else to forgive yourself for. Now you've seen the truth, and the truth will set you free."

Michael grinned. "Paraphrasing a little there?"

"Yeah. The point is, you're aware of what you did. Now make amends and change."

A serious expression crossed Michael's face and he turned to Sam. His eyes bore an intensity that they hadn't had in awhile. They'd been cold, calculating, but now a warmth broke through as a sign of his contrition. "I'm sorry that I pushed you aside at times when what I really needed was an outlet. I know you've tried to be my sounding board, but I fought it. I'm sorry."

"That's all been forgiven."

"And I'm really sorry that I pulled that gun on you. I think that one's going to haunt me for a long time, because that's when I realized that I'd gone over the edge." He looked at Sam. "I was scared. Terrified. I haven't had that kind of fear in a long time."

"Everything is forgiven, Mike. I understand why you did the things you did. Not that I liked your motivations, but I supported you anyway. Now you've got your job back. Anson is still out there, but you need to let others handle him. Remember a few years ago when Fi and I had to confront you about your tendencies to go lone wolf on us?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry for that, too."

Sam nodded. "Well, maybe we just have to be more proactive and remind you now and then that we're in this together." He paused and stared at the sand, then turned back to him. "I'm sorry too, Mike. We didn't do enough to keep you from going over the edge. I should have been a better friend that way."

Michael let out a long, slow breath as he nodded. "It's okay. You shouldn't have to be responsible for my decisions. But I appreciate the times you have put the brakes on me. I never said it, but, thanks."

"Any time, Mikey!" Sam smiled. "You feeling better?"

"It's going to take some time. I can't just turn off these feelings." He turned his head and met Sam's gaze. "You may have to remind me now and then that I'm getting too focused, and remind me how I messed up everything the last time I did that."

"Sure. You'll just have to learn to be more receptive to the warnings."

"You've got a deal." Michael grinned and stood. As he swiped the sand off his back side, he said, "Thanks, Sam. I feel a lot better."

Sam stood and kept a wary eye on his friend. He had the feeling that this wasn't over. He knew Michael well enough that what he really needed was a good outlet for the self-anger he felt inside. Until he released that, they would be talking again. "You're welcome, buddy. Now I think you need to go talk to your mom. You've got a lot of stuff to clear up between you and her."

"Yeah. I know."

"I can stick around if you like, but I think it'll be better for the two of you to sit one-on-one."

Michael nodded. "Agreed."

They fell silent as they walked toward the city and the hotel. All the while, Sam stole glances at Michael, and he saw emotions come and go, signs that he was fighting what was going on inside. He had a lot of habit to undo. It wasn't going to be easy. His intense fixation when it came to a job, the very thing that made him a good agent, made him lousy with his personal life. Michael knew he couldn't keep going on this way, or even his work with the CIA would suffer. He would turn into another Larry if he continued to block all the fear, guilt, and other emotions that made him human.

"I wish there was a way to wipe the slate clean and start over with everything."

"Everybody wants that at one time or another, Mike. The only way to do that is to clear the air, forgive, and move on."

"I'm trying." Michael's voice came out tense.

Sam laid an arm across his shoulders. "I know, Mikey. Just keep trying."

After Fi went to jail and Michael was upset, Sam told him he'd have to fight harder now. This wasn't exactly what he meant, but if unloading the bogeymen from Michael's psyche cleared his slate, so to speak, Anson had little ammunition left to use against him. And then maybe, like Goliath, they could take him down with one stone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Maddie was happy to see Michael and Sam return, although they were much later than Andrew said they would be. When she saw a sense of peace on Michael's face as he entered the room and embraced her, she decided the wait was worth it. As he held onto her, she could feel the tension melting away, and she wanted to know what Sam said, or did, to bring about a change in her son.

"Mom, we need to talk."

"Sure, Michael." She glanced at Sam.

"Oh, I'm, uh, just gonna change and go down to the pool. Don't mind me!" He hurried to the master bedroom and closed the door.

"Do you need something to drink? You and Sam were out there a long time without anything."

"I'm fine, Ma."

"I don't think so." She let him go and moved to the kitchenette, where she reached into the fridge and poured him a glass of juice from a pitcher. She returned and gave him the glass, saying, "Sit down and drink it. Make me happy."

Michael gave her a smile of agreement and sat in one of the chairs near the window. Sam emerged from the bedroom wearing swimming trunks and a color coordinated hawaiian shirt. He gave them a self-conscious grin and hurried to the door. When he reached the foyer, he turned at the last second and said, "If you need me, just call. I'll have my cell phone."

"Thanks, Sam, but I think we'll be okay," Michael said and nodded, signaling him to leave.

"Remember, Mike. Love rejoices in truth." He gave him a cocked grin and slipped out of the room. The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and they heard Sam's voice, "Andrew?"

They didn't hear Andrew's reply, but the elevator doors closed and sent them both down to the lobby. "What was that about?"

Michael patted the seat of the chair near his and looked up at her. "Ma, I want you to sit here." He looked around and noted that they were the only ones in the room. "We need to talk about the past."

"What about it?" She looked uncomfortable.

"I want to... well, I don't really want to, but I have to... talk about Dad. About how he treated us, me, Nate, and you." He looked over at his mother and saw distress in her frown and the creases in her brow. Her hands twisted in her lap, and he knew that what happened during this session would hurt her as much as himself. He swiveled his chair so he faced her and hoped that what he said ultimately brought her some healing as well.

"Why do we have to talk about this? What's done is done, Michael. And your father is dead; he can't defend himself."

Michael pursed his lips, holding back what threatened to burst out of his mouth. _Why did Dad need to defend himself? How can you defend outright abuse?_ Instead, he reached out and grasped her shaking hands, held them and smoothed the faint wrinkles on their backs. "Mom, I need to talk about what happened because it was the reason I left. I need to apologize because I should have stayed and fought back. I was old enough. I was strong enough. But I was afraid of him, and so I ran away and I abandoned you and Nate and left you to suffer for my cowardice."

"I signed those papers so you could join the Army and get away from him, so it's not your fault. Michael, you did what you had to do to survive. " Maddie whispered. "That's all we ever did."

Tears blurred Michael's vision as he reached out and caught a tear that slipped from her eye. "You shouldn't have had to just survive. I know things got worse after I was gone. He went after you again, and Nate, because he tried to defend you."

"How do you know?"

"Every once in awhile, I'd get a letter from him. He told me everything, Ma. And he voiced his anger at me for leaving. He was right, I didn't do enough to help you."

"I didn't do enough to help you, Michael! I should have done something to stop your father from using you kids as punching bags!" The tears flowed freely and she swiped at them ineffectively.

Michael got up, and the loss of his warmth against her hands made her suddenly feel cold. She looked up, thinking that the air conditioning vent may have been blowing on her, but it was several feet away. He returned with a box of tissues, pulled a few from the box, and handed them to her. She gratefully accepted them, and he took a couple for himself, mopped his eyes, and returned his grip. She sniffled and a new crop of tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It was my job to protect you kids, and I didn't do that. I was too concerned about not hurting anymore. Avoiding confrontation, I thought, would make that happen."

Michael shook his head. "But it didn't work, did it?"

"No. It only put the burden on your shoulders." She took a breath. "I'm sorry, Michael, I shouldn't have been so... weak. Because of me, you developed this obsession to save the world."

"Maybe, but only because I couldn't save you and Nate. I tried, Mom."

"There should have been no need for you to try. It was my fault that you felt you had to rescue us from him."

He bowed his head a moment and looked up at her again. "None of us could do anything to stop him."

"Frank made the choice to be the way he was. We shouldn't have had to put up with it. I should have left him, and because I didn't, you boys suffered." She sniffled and dabbed at her nose. "It wasn't all bad, though. Because of your desire to stop the Frank Westens of the world, you got into doing things to help people." She swallowed a lump and continued. "Until this Anson creep came along. Then you threw everything away, and what did it cost you?"

"I know, I haven't been doing enough lately to help people. Finding Anson and stopping him has been my main goal."

"I know a lot of people will benefit by you and your team taking down Anson. You just have to make sure that you don't lose focus on who you're doing this for. Otherwise, you'll lose everything you love and be left with nothing." Silent rivers streaked her face as her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I'm afraid this is going to kill you if you don't step back a little and see what's at stake."

"I can't stop. Not until Fi is free, and Anson isn't." He squeezed her hands. "But I know now that I need to restrain myself somewhat. I can't let the pursuit of Anson send me out of control again."

"I hope you also learned that now that your father is gone, you can come home and we can be a family again. The kind we never could be while he was around." Her mouth twisted as she realized the monumental leap required to make that happen. "At least, I'm willing to try." She looked up at him, locked onto his wet eyes, and said, "Over the past few years since you've come home we've had our rocky points, but I love you, Michael. Helping you on some of your cases has helped me understand better what you do, but I still don't have a good grasp on it. I just know that sometimes I think about it and feel terrible that this is where you were driven because of the past."

"I don't understand. What are you saying, Ma?"

"I don't know." She gave him a small chuckle as she wiped her face with a tissue. "I guess I feel like I want to do whatever I can to make up for what I didn't do before."

"Mom, there's nothing to make up for. You did what you did, and nothing can undo it. But if it helps, I forgive you. I love you. And despite all the hard times I've endured over the years, I can't regret anything or I wouldn't be who I am today." He got out of his chair and knelt at her feet, reached out and enveloped her in his arms. She cried against his shoulder as she clung to him, and his own tears rolled into her hair even as he smoothed it.

They stayed that way for awhile, but eventually the tears dried and they parted. Michael caressed her cheek with his hand, and his thumb swept away the last of the evidence of her sorrow and regret. All the while, he gave her a soft smile.

"Michael, thank you."

'For what?" He looked puzzled.

"For coming back to me."

He shrugged. "It wasn't exactly by choice, Ma. After I was burned, I was dumped here. Remember?"

"But you made contact. In this big city, you could have just gone on your way and never spoken to me."

A distressed look crossed his face, a sign of latent guilt because he hadn't taken the initiative to make contact. "Fiona had a hand in that, and at first I was really upset with her. You were so needy, and at the time, I couldn't handle needy." He paused, got up from the floor, and took her hand to lead her to the couch. When they were seated again, he continued. "I was pretty upset with her, but you know what? She was wiser than I gave her credit for, because she brought us back together. She knew it was the right thing."

"It was, baby." Maddie reached out and curved her hand around his cheek, tracing the scar along the corner of his eye. "She knew way back then that we needed to be doing what it took us six years to do." She swallowed, and her hand curled under his chin. "I'm sorry for all the money you spent over the years sending me to doctors to find a cure for my sickness, when it was you, having a loving relationship with you, Michael, that was the remedy."

"It's okay, Ma. I forgive you. Forgive me for running away and not looking back, foolishly thinking that by doing so I would spare myself more hurt."

"I forgive you, honey. Let's just wipe all that away, and start new."

He pulled a few more tears from beneath her eye, nodded, and took her into his arms again. It reminded him of the old days, when he was scared or hurting and she wasn't, and she held him close. He could feel her warmth and hear her heart beat as she pressed the side of his face against her chest. This time, he rested it on her shoulder, but he could smell the subtle perfume that she wore. It was nothing like he remembered from childhood. His mind quickly traced all the changes she'd made since he came home, and he realized that she'd gained a strength she never had before. If only she could have had it back then! But the past was the past, and the future awaited them. Nothing would ever be the same again, and for that he was grateful.

They parted, and neither of them knew what to do. Michael took a deep breath and let it out. "I feel..."

"Liberated?" She smiled.

"Yeah. Thanks, Ma."

"I think we both did enough crying to fill up the Everglades, but it was good. Maybe now you can deal with Fiona's issue, and when she's free, you have to take care of things between you and her."

"I know." He wasn't exactly looking forward to that confrontation, but if it went anywhere near like the healing rain that he and his mother experienced, he knew his future would be a lot different. "I wish I could talk to her right now."

"Have patience, Michael. I have a feeling you'll get in to see her before too long." Her smile widened. "And when you do, tell her what's in your heart. Don't be afraid. You should never have to be afraid of love."

He nodded. "I see that now." He reached for the glass of juice and downed it in one gulp. "For some reason, I'm feeling a little dehydrated now."

They shared a laugh. "Well, why don't we take care of that? Come on, I'll buy you some lunch, something more substantial than yogurt, and something to drink. You need to build up your strength if you're going to go after Anson."

He grimaced. "Yeah... that's kind of been taken out of my hands for now. I think Pearce is afraid to give me an op to find him. She's afraid I'll pull a gun on someone else in the team."

"Then you'll just have to work hard to redeem yourself in her eyes. But don't forget why you're doing it."

"I'll do that. Thanks." They got up and went downstairs. The sun and heat hit them full force as they stepped out of the hotel and walked up the street to a little cafe nearby. As he looked around, he noticed that everything seemed to be brighter. It was as if he'd been looking at his hometown from behind dirty glasses the past six years, and now that they were clean, he saw the vivid sense of life around him. It was good.

"You should probably call Sam and let him know where we went. Not that he goes up to the penthouse and finds us gone, and then worries."

"Yeah, you're right." He got out his phone and dialed Sam's number. "Hey, Sam, it's me. Yeah, things went well. Mom and I are out for some lunch, hope you don't mind we didn't invite you, but..." He listened to what Sam said and smiled. "Yes, it was a very cleansing experience. And now I just want to spend a little time with her, that's all."

While Michael spoke with Sam, Maddie watched her son. She sensed that behind his sunglasses his eyes sparkled. During the conversation, he sounded more like himself. Granted, he still had a ways to go, but at least now that everyone had cleared the air, they all gained the freedom that came from forgiveness. Things would be much different in the future. They would all learn to trust that love and grace would rule instead of the hate and bitterness that had kept them enslaved for so many years.

Sam was in the penthouse when they returned. He heard the elevator doors open and got up from the couch, approached them and stood with questions in his eyes and a look of hope on his face. He studied his friend and a slow smile spread across his face. He saw the contentment in Maddie's smile, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Turning back to Michael, he said, "You know, brother, you look like you've lost a ton of weight off your back."

"I feel like I've lost a ton of weight off my back," Michael replied and smiled. "Now, if I could just talk with Fi..."

"Yeah," Sam said, followed by a slow exhalation. "About that. I've been trying every avenue I know, but nobody's sanctioning a visit. I'm sorry, Mike. I just talked to Pearce a little while ago, and she thinks we need to take this higher up the food chain at the CIA."

"Higher up? To whom?" Michael stared at him.

Swallowing, and hating to even speak the name, Sam replied. "Tom Card. Word is, he can move mountains where he's at now."

Michael felt a wave of mixed emotions tumble over him at the sound of the name of his former mentor. Tom Card was, in some ways, like his father. Only without the hitting. He was intimidating to a new agency recruit, but he was smart and well-versed in what it took to be a successful field agent, to come home alive after all was said and done. He learned a lot from Card, but he wasn't sure he wanted to step back into that circle.

"You know how I feel about him, Mikey, but if he can get your foot in the door... I guess you have to decide if Fi's worth it." He stood with his hands on his hips and looked back up at Michael. "If it were me, I'd do it. She's worth too much to not take the risk."

Michael hadn't expected that. "One thing I've learned, Sam, is that risk needs to be weighed. I've jumped into too many places and situations without considering it."

"But Mike! If this is your only chance to get in to see Fi, it would be crazy not to do it!"

"You know he'll want something in return." His eyes bored into Sam's.

Sam's own eyes softened. "I know. But I'll be there with you. I've got your back, you know that."

"Thanks." Silence fell around them until Michael spoke again. "Well, I guess I better go make that call." He stepped past Sam and left him and his mother to watch him go into his bedroom.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Sam. Somehow I have a bad feeling about this."

"So do I, but he's not alone, Maddie. I'll back him up, and I know Jesse will help too. We're all in this together, and nobody's going down the wrong road if we can help it."

Maddie nodded, but she still didn't feel better about the situation. Sam threw an arm around her and pulled her to his side.

"It'll be okay, Maddie. Just trust us."

"Okay. But if this all goes to hell..."

"I know. There'll be no mercy for me." He squeezed Maddie and released her. "Just wait. It'll all be worth it in the end."

* * *

_Complete? Not complete? Stay tuned!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hot off my flying fingers! This is a first draft, but I think it says exactly what I want it to say without any fine tuning. _

_Warnings: Brief Season 6 spoiler in the first paragraph. And break out the large box of tissues!_

**Chapter 6**

Michael had experience in selling out to the devil. He did it with Anson, and now he made the same mistake with Tom Card. The mission his mentor sent him and his friends on in exchange for a chance to see Fiona turned into a disaster. They came out alive, but at what cost? A dead DEA agent. Granted, he wasn't innocent, but did that justify his death? Not in the least! In the past, an outcome like that might not have pricked his conscience, but now, after Michael had a good dose of inner reflection and amending for his past, things were different. He needed to talk about what happened, so he met with Sam and Jesse at Carlito's for drinks and to debrief.

While they were talking, a man in a black suit approached the table. "Mr. Axe?"

Sam looked up and recognized the face. "Daniel." He glanced toward the street and saw a limousine waiting, the engine running. "What's going on? Where's Elsa?"

"She's still in New York, Sir. She asked me to pick you up and take you to the airport. The plane is waiting."

A huge lump formed in Sam's stomach, and he closed his eyes for a moment to hold off the emotion. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, she's fine. It's her father. He's gravely ill, and there's not much time, we have to leave now." Daniel stood with his hands clasped in front of him and a dour expression on his face.

"Sorry, Mike, Jesse. I've gotta go." Apologies were in his eyes as he stood.

"Not a problem, Sam. Go, and keep in touch."

"Thanks. Let me know if you need me for anything." Sam nodded and followed Daniel to the car. The chauffeur opened the door for him, closed it after Sam disappeared inside, and hurried around to the driver's side. In seconds, he was gone.

"Okay, what was that all about?" Jesse watched the vehicle move swiftly down the street.

"Sam said that Elsa's dad is ninety, and she went up New York City to see him." Michael shook his head. "Sam said he was pretty spry for his age, but... something must have happened."

"Things must be pretty serious between them that he'd just drop everything and go to be with her."

Michael nodded in agreement. "I think it is. When he talked about her dad, it sounded as if he really liked the guy." He let out a breath. "So, where were we?"

"I don't know. Speaking of dropping everything..." Jesse glanced at his watch. "I've got a date in about an hour, so I better take off soon." He smiled.

"Jesse, before you leave, I want to say something." Michael looked at him with a gravity in his eyes that the other man didn't expect.

"Sure, go ahead." Jesse leaned forward and gave him his full attention.

"I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I burned you."

"I think you've already said that before." Jesse glanced away briefly, then turned back. "We can all agree that it was for the best anyway, so no harm done."

"You don't understand. I am truly sorry that my self-centered obsession to catch those who burned me harmed you. You may not think so now, but at the time, I ruined your life." He swallowed hard and blinked. Emotions seemed to be so close to the surface lately, which was something new for him. It hurt, but it also healed. "So Jesse, I'm asking for your forgiveness."

Jesse's smile was warm as he replied. "Mike, if it'll make you feel better, okay, I forgive you. I guess I haven't felt like there was anything to forgive, not for a long time. Yeah, at first I was really mad, crazy mad, when I found out it was you. What hurt more than anything was that you did it, and then you turned around and pretended to be my friend and helper. All the while you hid the truth." He tilted his head and asked, "How could you sleep nights with that kind of conflict going on inside of you?"

"Not very well, believe me. Like everything else, I pushed aside the guilt over what I'd done, telling myself it was for the benefit of the job, for the big payoff. But no matter how much time has gone by, I still feel a stab of remorse for what I did."

"I get that. It's not like I've never done anything that didn't hurt someone else and I just let it slide. When you're a spy, you get into this mindset of taking whatever means necessary to get the results you want, and don't worry about the aftermath." Jesse's eyes held a warmth in them as he stared at Michael. "I totally get where you're coming from. I forgive you, Mike. And I envy you."

"Why?"

"Because you have a chance to reconcile with the people who mean the most to you that you've hurt. I'm not that lucky."

Michael nodded in understanding. "Your mother."

"Yeah. She and I had a big blowout that night she was killed. I felt so bad about it afterwards, I wanted to go to the shop and apologize, but then I got a call and I had to go." He paused, blinking away the moisture that threatened to flood his eyes. "I chose my work over her, Mike, and I'll never, ever, get to make up for that."

"I think if she knew, she'd forgive you, Jesse. Especially now, if she could see all the good you're doing."

"I like to think that. Sometimes that's the only thing that gets me to sleep at night." He shook his head. "Anyway, we're cool, right? No animosities or anything to clear up?"

"We're cool, Jesse. Thank you." Michael smiled at him as he watched Jesse stand. "Have fun tonight."

"Thanks! I intend to." He winked, put on his sunglasses, and walked away.

Michael finished his drink and went home to his empty loft. With Sam winging his way to New York City, Jesse on a date, and his mom out with her friends, he was completely alone. He kept staring at his phone, and after the first couple of times trying Fi's number, he gave up. It was stupid, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. His soul wasn't clean yet, and there were only two people he knew who still needed to hear from him. Hopefully Card could be trusted to do his part to get him in to see Fiona. Then he'd be down to one, and Michael suspected that he might be the most difficult of all to confront, because of the continued vein of animosity that ran through their relationship even after all this time.

A knock sounded on the door, startling Michael from his thoughts. He jumped out of his chair and crossed the room. As he neared, he heard a muffled voice.

"Hey, Bro, why'd you lock the door? Come on man, let me in!"

Michael unlatched the door and opened it, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Nate. What are you doing here?"

Nate sighed heavily. "You know, every time I see you, you ask me that. Like I have no business being where I am. I'm getting real tired of it, Mike!" He threw up his hands and took a step back. "You know what? Forget I even stopped by. Maybe some day you'll feel like visiting me for a change, and then I can ask you the same question."

Michael's eyes widened. He felt as if Nate had smashed a hammer between his eyes. He knew his little brother had anger issues when it came to him, but he didn't expect it to come out like this. Nate usually stuck to barbs and nagging statements to air his grievances. "Maybe you're tired of trying to be subtle and not getting through my thick head." Michael's eyes opened even more when he suddenly realized that he'd said that aloud.

To his surprise, Nate laughed, but it was not a happy sound. "I never knew you were so astute, bro."

"Nate," Michael's voice softened. "Come in. Please." He backed out of the way and opened the door wide for Nate to enter. "You want anything to drink? Or maybe a yogurt?"

"Yeah, a yogurt might be good." He sat on a stool at the bar and Michael dug into the fridge. He brought out two and handed one to Nate, along with a spoon. "Thanks."

They ate in silence for a few moments, each one sizing up the other, collecting their thoughts. Michael finished off his yogurt first and scraped the sides, tossed away the container, and sucked on the spoon until all the remnants were gone. Nate finished his and left the spoon in the container on the countertop. He crossed his arms, leaned his weight on them, and sighed.

"So, here we are. Mom said you two had a really good talk the other day. You cleared up a lot of stuff."

"Yes, we did." Michael glanced down at the counter surface briefly and raised his head to meet Nate's gaze. "I've gotten a lot off my chest in the past week or so."

"Nice of you to come to me and talk. Or don't you realize that we've got a lot between us?"

"Oh, I know. Believe me!" Michael nodded. "And it all started when I left to join the Army. I abandoned you and Mom. I apologized to her for it, but now I'm apologizing to you. I know I hurt you. I'm sorry."

"Your leaving scarred me, bro. I can't even count all the ways it messed me up. You were... you were my protector. My shield against Dad. You stood up for me, and I looked at you like a god, Mike. I thought you'd always be there to take care of me, but then you left. What really hurt was that you snuck off while I was asleep. I woke up the next day, you were gone, Ma was crying, Dad was screaming and raging around the house, and everything just went to hell."

"I thought it was the best way to handle it. I didn't want to upset you."

"Well, either way I would have been upset. You just made it worse because I never had the chance to say goodbye." Nate pursed his lips, folded his hands, and banged them gently against his forehead. "You don't know how I prayed you'd come home! After you were gone, there was no one left to keep Dad from beating on Mom or me. She coped by building a shell around herself. She got sick, really sick, and nobody knew where you were to tell you. We thought she might die." He dropped his hands on the surface and stared at Michael.

Michael paled. "She never told me that."

"Of course not. She wouldn't want to worry you." He snorted. "She got better, but after that, she was always finding something wrong with herself."

"That I found out about, and I sent most of my pay home to take care of her."

"But Dad got a hold of a lot of it and drank it up. I worked a paper route all through middle school and into high school, and I secretly gave the money to Ma so she could buy groceries and get her meds." He blinked as he recalled the memories. "I almost dropped out so I could help support the family, all the while you were traipsing off around the world shooting bad guys, and Dad was getting deeper and deeper into his bottle." He shook his head, letting out a staggered breath, a grim laugh at the injustice. "Despite everything, he still asked about you. Especially toward the end. He started asking Ma a lot of questions about you, where you were, what you were doing. She couldn't tell him, because you never told her anything. Nice job, Bro!"

"I couldn't tell her or any of you anything! My hands were tied, I was doing covert ops, and I would have put my life in jeopardy, if it didn't cause me to be burned earlier."

"At least then you could have come home and saved your family instead of trying to save the world."

Michael winced. "Nate, I'm sorry for running away. I'm sorry for not keeping in touch. I'm sorry for not being a better brother."

"Mike, you were a great brother until you left. Then everything came crashing down on Ma and me, and we had nowhere to turn." Nate started to cry. "I tried, Bro. I tried to fill your shoes, but I couldn't. I was never good enough. I could have made straight A's and it wouldn't have mattered. I could have been the star player on the football team, and it wouldn't have been good enough for him. I try my damndest at everything, and nothing works!"

"I'm sorry, Nate. You know it's not true, not everything you do fails. I mean, look at Charlie. He's a great kid."

"Not that you've seen much of him." A hint of a smile crossed Nate's face as he sniffled. "I'll never forget that first time you saw him, when he was crying, and you asked if he needed medical attention." He laughed. "I finally felt like I was superior in something. I knew about raising a baby, and you didn't."

"I'm proud of you, Nate, that you had the courage to even have a kid. After what we went through, to tell you the truth, I'm terrified of the idea of being a father."

Nate studied Michael with a sobered expression. "I don't blame you. It scared the crap out of me when Ruth told me we were pregnant. But I decided that I was gonna throw myself into it one hundred percent, be the dad I would have liked to have, rather than the one I was saddled with." He sighed heavily and hung his head. "Only now, with the divorce, I don't know if I'll ever be able to be any kind of dad staying here while Ruth and Charlie stay in Vegas."

"If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

Nate's head flew up and he locked on Michael's face. "Are you serious? You won't walk away?"

"I promise, I won't walk away from you again. I hurt you deeply. I know that, and I've known it for a long time. I used to just shake my head at your failures and your attempts to try again, but I know that you were just trying to get something right so you could feel good about yourself." Michael sniffed. "I should have been there to tell you that you were a good brother. I should have been there to support you and help you succeed. You didn't fail yourself. I failed you."

"Well, some of it I did."

"But you had life stacked against you and no one to turn to for help. Parents, so I've heard, are supposed to help their kids with that, but neither of us ever had that. The Army developed me into who I am, that and my home life. You weren't as lucky." Michael came around the bar and stopped, slid onto the edge of the other stool and asked, "Nate, can you forgive me?"

"Yeah... yeah, I can forgive you, Bro."

Michael reached out first and wrapped his arms around Nate, and Nate clung to him. He'd never cried so much in his life as he had in the past weeks. It was like a storm front that wouldn't leave, providing the rain that washed away all the stains of the past and left everyone clean and ready to face a new future. He lost track of time and how long they half sat, half stood with their arms around each other. Eventually, they parted. Michael and Nate both swiped at their eyes with embarrassed grins on their faces and a hint of light laughter floating in the air.

The club downstairs started up, the music pounding a muffled staccato through the floorboards. Nate glanced at his watch. "Wow, it's that late already."

"Yeah." Michael glanced around the room and realized that the view outside the windows showed a Miami skyline full of lights against a black night sky. "Hey, why don't we go out? Do something like a couple of brothers do."

"You wanna hang out with me?" Nate looked surprised.

Michael grinned and threw an arm around his neck as he steered him toward the door. "Yeah, let's pretend that we're just a couple of single guys out on the town! Show me what it's like, Nate, because I have absolutely no idea!" He laughed, and Nate joined in.

"You got it, Bro. We're gonna have a great time!" He paused as Michael locked up the loft. Before they took a step down, he held him back. "Hey, I'm a little short on cash. Think you can spot me a few bucks?"

Michael's laughter grew and his head tilted back. "No problem, Nate. This is my treat tonight. Just look at it as a frail attempt at making amends."

"No, it'll just be icing on the cake." Nate grinned. "Let's go!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Michael didn't expect to indulge as much as he did, but he had fun letting loose for once. He'd held himself on a tight leash for so long, throwing off inhibitions and pretending he was just a normal guy for one night gave him a taste of what he was missing. The next day, however, he paid for it. The morning sun streamed into the room and stayed out of his eyes, but it brightened up the room enough to cause his head to pound mercilessly. He could barely lift his head off the pillow, and when he did, his stomach lurched. Michael made it to the bathroom in time. As the last of his retching died, he heard the distinctive sound of the door squealing and softly thudding to close.

_Gotta get up and find out who's here. Was I that drunk that I forgot to lock the door? _He tried to stand, but instead he sat backed up to the cool tile wall and let his head fall against it.

"Mike? Are you here?"

He recognized Sam's voice. "Sam?" He tried to keep his voice down to prevent it from shaking up his head even more, but it was too quiet to project much from the tiny room. "I'm in here!"

Footsteps neared, and the door slowly swung open, pushed by the barrel of a gun. Sam looked down, saw his friend sprawled on the floor, and his jaw dropped as he stuffed the gun into his waist band. "Jeez, Mike! What happened to you?" He got down to his level and put a hand on his forehead. "Are you sick?"

"Hungover, yes. Sick, no. How'd you get in?"

"I used the key you gave me a long time ago."

"Oh." Michael closed his eyes and enjoyed the coolness of Sam's touch. "Where were you, in a freezer?"

He smirked. "It's hot out there, Mikey. I had the AC cranked in the Caddy."

Michael groaned as he tried to move. The heat wasn't helping his hangover any. "It's times like this that I wished I had air conditioning."

"Here, let me help get you on your feet." Sam lifted his arm, got underneath, and pulled Michael to stand. He assisted him to the bed, laid him down, and said, "I'll be right back." He returned with a cool washcloth and a bottle of aspirin and water. "Take some of these."

"It'll just make it worse, Sam."

"Fine. You need to eat something first, then take some aspirin. Until then, just drink the water." He held out the bottle. He was relieved when Michael took it. "So, I'll ask again. What did you do to yourself?"

"Nate and I... " He took a swig of the water, swirled it around to wash out the inside of his mouth, and swallowed. He grimaced at the sour taste and took another healthy swallow. "We went out and had fun. Hit some clubs, danced with some girls. I don't know what else we did. I think that was it." He scowled. "I'm pretty sure that was all we did."

"I hope so, brother, because I'd hate to be you if Fi found out you were screwing around on her." He took a chair across from the bed where Michael sat on the edge. "What brought this on?"

Michael told him about his conversation with Nate and how they'd buried years of animosity. "We sealed up the grave, so to speak, by going out and pub crawling. Uhhhhhggh, I tried to follow every bit of training I know concerning drinking, but it didn't work. Now I'm suffering for it." He smiled slightly. "I can't imagine that Nate is doing much better. He passed out in the cab, so I got him to Ma's first before I came home."

"You should have stayed there, 'cause your mom would have taken care of both of you."

"Yeah." He rubbed a hand over his face, trying in vain to clear the cobwebs. He accepted the slowly warming washcloth from Sam and ran it over his face. "I thought you went to New York City yesterday. What happened?"

Sam let out a snort. "Elsa's dad is something else. He had her thinking he was on his death bed, but he's fine. Well, he needed to have a pacemaker put in, but otherwise, he's fine. She was all freaked out he wasn't going to make it through surgery, so she sent the plane to come and get me. Once it was obvious that he would make it, I came back. I think that she and I convinced him, finally, to come down here to Miami when he can travel."

"This relationship you two have is getting pretty serious, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Mike. Serious enough that I've got the wheels in motion to end my previous marriage." Sam looked at his friend. "I'm not going to lose another great woman to that albatross around my neck."

"Congratulations, Sam." Michael smiled, despite how he was feeling.

"Thanks." He slapped his hands on his knees and stood, and approached the fridge. He pulled out a yogurt and gave it to Michael along with a spoon. "Here, let's start with this, and if you keep it down, we'll work your way up to something more solid."

"You don't have to do this." He peeled the cover off the yogurt.

"No problem, Mike. Besides, I've gotta get you ready."

"Ready, for what?" He looked up at Sam, surprise in his eyes.

"You've got a meeting with Pearce this morning. And I need to get over to the agency to help with the Anson search." He smiled. "Most smart people wait until the weekend to party. Keep that in mind for next time okay?" He winked at his friend and went to the kitchen to start making something more solid than yogurt for breakfast.

"Ohhhh boy." He shoveled the last of the yogurt into his mouth and stood. He ignored the nausea and shuffled to the closet for his clothes.

"Will you be okay, or do you need help? I could always call Maddie..."

"No, Sam. I'll be fine!"

He didn't look fine. Sam trusted him to know best, but he couldn't leave him to his own devices. Nodding, he said, "Okay, but I think I'll stick around anyway and give you a ride to Carlito's. Maybe Pearce can get you back here later."

Mission after mission kept Michael busy, with occasional visits to Fiona sandwiched in between. They were always the same: short, full of tears and promises that he would work to get her out. The last time, he could see the doubt in her eyes. He was certain his reflected the same sentiment because he was helpless, but he tried to hide it behind a smile. A couple of months went by with no progress. Card used him for his own purposes to take down slimy characters that the CIA couldn't touch. It appeared that he was in, but he wasn't in. Anson was still on the loose somewhere, although Pearce's team picked up traces here and there and sent out agents to pin him down. He would have preferred to go himself, but she and Sam were right. He had no business chasing Anson and letting his emotions boil over. He was afraid that the next time he pulled a gun on Sam or anybody else he knew, he might not stop without pulling the trigger.

Every night, Anson filled his dreams and he imagined killing him in creative ways. He tossed and turned, and not even visions of Fiona could calm him. He was beginning to think that she would rot in jail forever. He asked Pearce for updates, and she was always coy with her answers. It frustrated him to be hanging, feeling as if someone left him twisting in the wind.

"You've reached Sam, leave a message."

Michael growled low, tightening his grip on the phone rather than throwing it against the wall like he wanted to. He hunched over his mother's dining room table and tapped the phone against his forehead, wracking his brain, trying to figure out where his friend could be. An inspiration hit, and he called another number.

"Hello?"

"Elsa, this is Michael, Sam's friend." He only met her the week before, and he'd been impressed by her good nature. He silently hoped that if she knew anything of Sam's whereabouts, she would tell him.

"Oh, Michael! How are you?" She sounded happy to hear from him, and he puzzled at that, considering that she barely knew him.

"I'm good. Do you know where Sam is?"

"No, sorry, I don't. A couple of days ago he packed a small bag and said he had to go 'off the grid' for awhile. What does that mean?"

"It means he's probably on a secret op." He swore under his breath. "Did he say anything else?"

"I wish he did. Dad and I are worried about him. Michael, don't you know what's happening? Sam told me you two always went on missions together."

"Not this time, Elsa. For some reason, they've got me in the dark on this one." He paused, his mind racing. "I have to go, but we'll talk later, okay?"

"Okay. If you see Sam... take care of him and make sure he comes back safe."

Michael smiled. "I promise I will, but you'd be surprised how well Sam can take care of himself. He and I haven't always worked together."

"I know. I'd just feel better if he had a friend watching his back."

After he got off the phone with Elsa, he tried Jesse's number. It went right to voice mail. Running out of patience, he called Pearce. Just when he thought it would go to voice mail, she picked up. He should have let her speak, but he couldn't help himself. He was too worried about his friends and plagued by the mystery of their mission.

"Where the hell are Sam and Jesse?"

"Well, hello to you too, Michael. I was wondering when you'd call." She breathed. "I can't tell you. They're on a special operation."

"But they're not CIA. Why them? Why not me?"

"It's another one of those things where we can't have the agency involved. At least, not directly. Jesse and Sam are working to pave the way for us, and I assure you, when this goes down, you'll know about it."

He chose his words carefully. "Will I be invited to participate?"

"I wish, but no. This is too close to home for you. I'm sorry, Michael. We can't risk another instance of you flying off and putting a team member in danger."

"Just tell me," he spoke through gritted teeth. "Does it have anything to do with Anson? If it does, he's the only one I'm gunning for."

"I can't say."

"Does it have to do with getting Fiona out of jail?"

"I can't say. Please, Michael, this isn't easy on me. You know that!"

"Okay. Please, just tell me the outcome when it's over." He was begging, but he'd gotten to the point where he'd lost all his pride and would get down on hands and knees if necessary for even a shred of news.

"I will." He heard voices in the background, and one of them sounded like Sam shouting orders, followed by the snap of a rifle safety coming off. "I have to go now, Michael. Just stay where you are. Your mother knows what to do, and so does Nate."

_What did she mean by that?_ He stared at the dead phone, his imagination going wild as he replayed the garbled words in the background and the sound of arms being readied. Wherever she was, something was going to happen soon.

"Michael?"

"Ma." He raised his head and stared at Maddie. "What's going on? What do you know? What does Nate know?"

Maddie shook her head and smiled, but Michael saw right through it. "Nothing, sweetheart. We're just supposed to keep you busy for a little while."

"Keep me busy."

"Yes. Nate needs you in the garage, honey. He's trying to fix up that old truck he bought at auction. It's a mess." She paused, leaned close to him with her fists resting on the table and said, "Michael, just do this! You can't get involved!" Her eyes pleaded with his. "This'll help keep your mind off things."

Michael let out a deep breath and sat back in his chair. "Okay, Ma. I'll help Nate with that truck."

The thing was a waste of money, which didn't surprise Michael. That was so typical of Nate. But he agreed to help and keep his mouth shut about what he thought. Nate was trying, and that was the important thing. Healing up old wounds didn't necessarily mean that they always saw things eye to eye, but sometimes he had to learn to hold his tongue rather than cause more hurt.

"Okay, Bro, why don't you crank it?" Nate put the finishing touches on the air filter cover.

Michael got behind the wheel and turned the key. Nothing happened. He shook his head.

"Let me replace these spark plugs real quick and try again." He grunted as he worked to free the old plugs and put new ones into the holes. Finally, he came out from under the hood, straightened, and said, "Try it now."

At first, the engine hesitated. Michael gave it a little gas, and they heard a couple cylinders fire, quickly followed by the whole engine coming to life. Nate crowed with joy and shoved his fists into the air.

"Well, you were right, Nate. I didn't think we'd ever get this thing running again." He stood with hands on hips next to his brother. "It took all day, but we got it."

"Thanks, Bro. I couldn't have done it without you." He placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, and Michael put one on Nate's. "Hey, let's go take it out for a spin, huh?"

"Sure, why not."

They quickly replaced all the loose parts and Nate took the wheel. He grinned as he put the truck into reverse and pulled out of the garage. Their mother watched from the small green space between the house and the garage, her face lit up with a huge grin as she waved and said, "Be careful, boys!"

"We'll be back in a little while, Ma." Michael responded, a small bemused smile on his face. He still couldn't believe that they'd actually gotten the thing to run, and move. Whether it went forward, however, remained to be seen.

"Here we go!" Nate put the truck into first gear. It backfired once between first and second gears, but it moved. "Alright! This is awesome!" He turned and drove onto a street that would take them to a busier thoroughfare. "How about we go to the yogurt shop and pick up a quart or so?"

"Sounds good to me." He would have rather been on that clandestine mission, but at that moment, Michael enjoyed the glow of his brother's triumph.

Nate pulled out into the busy street and the truck almost stalled, but he kept it going. He gave Michael a worried look, then quickly wiped it off his face as they rode down the street. They made it to the yogurt shop, picked up two quarts, and headed back to their mother's house without another incident. They pulled into the driveway, Nate parked in the garage, and turned off the engine. He let out a satisfied sigh. "That was a great ride. Don't you think? Mike?"

Michael's attention had been drawn to something as they pulled into the driveway. He noticed a car in the alley, and in the dusk it was difficult to determine if he really saw it, but he was certain it was there. No one parked in the alley unless they were visiting the Reynolds house, because it was the only way Ms. Reynolds or her mother could get their cars out of the garage. He grabbed the plastic bag containing the yogurt and headed for the side door.

"Bro? What's going on?"

"Stay here, Nate, until I know everything's okay."

"But..."

"No! Stay here!"

In the dimness, he could barely make out the details of Nate's face. What he could see was fear and confusion. Something was wrong. Michael could feel it in his nerve endings as they tingled with every step. He left the garage and heard a gunshot. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the sound of the semi-automatic that he'd left at his mother's house awhile ago, on the off chance that she would need it. After Anson's psycho ex-Special Forces patient invaded her home, he didn't want her to be without a short range weapon.

His footsteps moved quickly toward the back door, but before he could mount the stairs, someone burst out the door and barreled down the steps. As he fell backwards and hit the concrete, Michael realized that it was Anson. His weight caused him to hit hard, and the breath rushed out of him. He gasped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but no air seemed to go in. His chest felt wet, and Anson stumbled up to his knees, then his feet, and continued toward the alley.

"Michael! Michael, did he hurt you?" Maddie dropped to her knees beside him, caressing his face with one hand, while the other held the gun.

He tried to answer her but couldn't. He could only wheeze. She was about to speak again when they heard more gunfire. Her head shot up and she looked around.

"Ma... 911."

She screamed, "Nate! Where are you?"

"Call... help." Michael coughed, a good sign he would recover his breathing soon, but would he be able to get up and go after Anson? He was probably already gone in the escape vehicle he left in the alley. He tried to rise, but spots danced before his eyes, and his head fell back.

"Michael! Michael, can you hear me?" Maddie shook him, but he didn't answer. She leaned over and heard him breathing, so she made a snap decision. She got up and ran toward where she last saw Anson go. She made it to the alley and saw the car. _That's not Mrs. Reynold's car, or her daughter's._ A cold chill ran down her spine. _Nate was in the garage..._ Without another thought, she hurried in through the large open door. "Nate? Nate, are you in here?"

It was too dark to see into the shadows, so she flipped on the light. The first thing she saw was Anson lying face down in a large pool of blood next to the truck on the driver's side. Then she saw two sets of legs and feet, and she realized that he lay on top of Nate.

"Oh no. Nate. Nate! My baby," she muttered while she stepped around the blood. As she saw his face, she realized that some of it was his, and she dropped the gun. Her hands pressed to her face in a feeble attempt to stifle a cry. Sirens screamed in the distance and got louder as she stood frozen in place.

Anson groaned and stirred. Maddie jumped back, her eyes on him. His face was bloodied, but through it she saw his evil sneer. His hand slowly came up, a gun clamped in it, his finger on the trigger and the barrel was aimed directly at her. Maddie would never know how or from where she obtained the speed to reach down, pick up the gun, and fire it at him. A look of surprise froze on Anson's face as the bullet struck him in the forehead and his body went limp.

"Put the gun down, lady! Now!"

Frightened, Maddie quickly complied. "He... he tried to kill me! I had to shoot him!"

Men came from everywhere and swooped onto the scene. Two moved behind and one handcuffed her.

"Please, help my sons. Help them! Michael is outside by the steps." She looked down at Nate, who hadn't moved a muscle. "Nate! Wake up, honey! Help is here!"

"Get her out of here."

"Why are you arresting me? I was only defending myself!"

"You have the right to remain silent..."

Maddie shut her mouth and watched in horror over her shoulder as they led her to the police car.


	8. Chapter 8

_Please note: situations in this chapter are speculation only. I have no inside track on what's happening in future episodes of Season 6!_

**Chapter 8**

"This is Sam." He answered his phone as he drove down the causeway in his Cadillac, and he hoped that Pearce didn't want him to go to the CIA offices to debrief or something. The mission was over and they reached a satisfactory conclusion. Now he just wanted to go to the hotel, grab a shower, and snuggle up with Elsa.

"Sam, you need to get over to Maddie's immediately," Pearce barked into the phone.

"What? What happened?"

"It's Michael, Nate and Madeline. Anson was here, and it's not pretty."

"Oh god," Sam muttered. "I'll be right there!" He found a break in the median and made a quick u-turn, not caring if he cut off another vehicle or two. Once he straightened the car, his foot stomped on the gas and he hurried to Maddie's house. All the way, images of what might have happened, none of them good, flooded his brain. They involved either Maddie dead, Nate dead, Michael dead, or a combination of the three. Or all. He didn't like that thought, and that's the one that made him crazy. He took risks driving, but all he cared about was getting there.

Sam found a slew of police cars blocking the street, so he slid to a stop in front of the house and ran around the side. Officers held him back. "Hey! These people, they're like family! Let me go!"

Pearce turned and saw him on the fringes of the flood lights. Her eyes were full of sorrow as she ordered, "Let him through!"

Sam wasn't sure what kind of pull she had to get the cops to listen to her, but whatever it was, he was grateful. He pushed past them and approached Pearce. She stood between the garage and the house and looked down at the figure on the ground. Sam followed her eyes and sucked in a breath.

"Mike. Is he okay?" He looked for a way to get down beside him, but there were too many medical personnel and a gurney in the way.

"Looks like he just got the wind knocked out of him and a concussion from hitting the pavement," Pearce reported. The sadness never left her eyes.

"Where's Maddie? Nate?" Every second she didn't answer was complete torture.

She swallowed hard. "In the garage. They just removed Anson's body."

Sam never heard the last sentence. He raced to the open door and pushed past the police presence to see the blood, so much blood, drying on the vinyl tile that he and Michael put into the garage a couple years earlier when Maddie was considering renting out the garage as living space. It was an ugly pattern, made even more so by the staining. Nate lay in the middle of it, arms spread out wide. His eyes were closed and he looked as if he was caught taking a nap on the floor, but the dark red stain spread over his chest was the giveaway that not all was well.

"Sam," Maddie's voice was hoarse. She knelt at Nate's head and held it in her hands. She couldn't see anything through the tears. Inside, it felt as if her heart was ripped out and a bleeding, empty hole left in its place. It was a miracle that she was still breathing.

"Maddie," Sam whispered, the second syllable catching. He moved forward, side-stepped the blood, and knelt beside her, holding onto her shoulders with his hands. She began to tremble in his grip, her sobs shaking her entire body. He felt himself slipping, losing control as he turned her in his grasp to sink into his arms. Maddie's wails were unlike anything he'd heard come from her, and it was his undoing. He hid his face in the crook of her shoulder and broke down, both their bodies shaking with the sorrow they felt.

They stayed that way until they were spent. A gentle hand laid on Sam's arm, and he looked up into a pair of kind eyes that felt their pain. "I'm sorry, we have to take care of your son now, Mrs. Westen."

Maddie nodded, not sure if the man meant Michael or Nate. Little did she know that Michael had already been transported to the hospital. "Okay." Her voice sounded so rough, she barely recognized herself speaking.

"Let's get up, Maddie. Come on." Sam got to his feet and hauled Maddie up with him. She clung to him as if they were in the ocean and she would drown without him to hold onto. Sam felt the same way, but he also knew they had to leave. There was no way Maddie was staying in her house tonight. "Maddie, let's go in the house and pack you a bag. You're coming with me to the hotel."

She whimpered. "No. I want to stay here, stay with Nate."

"Maddie, they're taking him to the morgue. He won't be here." Sam pulled her away far enough to be able to look into her eyes. "He's gone. I'm sorry, but he's gone."

Her knees weakened and she crumpled, but he was stronger and held her up. Yet, she was unmovable. He dipped, got his arm behind her knees, and picked her up. Her arms circled his shoulders and she buried her face in his chest. People parted for him and he walked her to his car. To his surprise, Pearce was still there. She opened the door for him and he set the distraught woman inside.

"Pearce, can you do me a favor? Go inside and grab some things for Maddie, at least a couple days' worth."

"Sure, Sam." Her voice was soft, full of emotion. She blinked and quickly turned and ran to the house. Until she returned, Sam crouched by the open door and held Maddie's hand while tears continued to streak down her face. "Here you go." Pearce threw the bag into the back seat. "Are you taking her to the hotel?"

"Yeah."

She led him away from Maddie's earshot and said, "We have to talk about what happened."

"Get in line, sister," Sam growled. "The cops will want to know everything too, and you can see she's not in any condition right now to talk to anybody."

"I understand that," Pearce replied coolly. She applauded Sam's protectiveness, but she had a job to do. "I have to explain to my superiors how Anson wound up dead. Why he was even here."

"Did your intel point to him being somewhere else?"

"Yes. A contact inside Fiona's prison said he was scheduled as a psychiatric visitor tomorrow. It seems that because his inside assassins were unable to do their job, he was planning on taking care of things himself."

"Inside the prison. The snake was crazy."

"I don't know. There are plenty of ways he could kill Fiona without anyone suspecting him." She said it, but she wasn't proud of knowing more than a few of those methods. "Anyway, we lost him and somehow he wound up here."

"So if your people had had a better handle on him, Nate might still be alive. Thanks a lot, Pearce." He knew it wasn't fair to pin that on her and her team, but he couldn't help himself at the moment. Sam walked back to the car and closed Maddie's car door.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Westen." Pearce leaned into the open window. She ignored Sam's glare.

Maddie, with eyes still full of shock, looked up at her. "Thank you."

Sam belted himself in, started the car, and without another word to Pearce, pulled away. He was flaming mad at the moment, and anything he said to her would have done nothing more than add fuel to the fire. As they put distance between themselves and the house, he cooled down a little and thought of his main objective: getting Maddie to the hotel and into a nice safe bed. He doubted she would sleep, but he could hope. If it really came down to it, they could call a doctor to prescribe something. He glanced at her, and in the glow from the dash she looked catatonic.

"I want to see Michael."

"Aw, Maddie, no. You can do that in the morning. Tonight they'll be swarming all over Mike, running tests and stuff. We'll go first thing in the morning. I promise." He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it in reassurance.

She glanced at him, and a small voice came out of her. "Okay." Her eyes blinked furiously, but her action couldn't stem the tide. The road got blurry, and Sam prayed he could hold off until they got to the hotel. All the way, he gave Maddie the use of his hand to hold onto, and she took full advantage of it.

Sam was relieved when the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the penthouse. Andrew waited, despite the late hour. He should have been gone a couple hours ago, but he stayed. His face wore a sympathetic smile as he approached and took Maddie's bag from Sam.

"Mrs. Westen, my sincerest sympathies."

"Andrew, how'd you know?" Sam eyed him.

"Agent Pearce called to tell us you were on the way with Mrs. Westen. She explained briefly what happened." Andrew returned his attention to Maddie. "I am sorry for your loss, madame."

"Thank you, Andrew."

Sam led her past the butler and into the living area. Elsa sat up waiting, and when she saw Maddie, she hurried forward and enveloped her in her arms. She didn't speak, but it was unnecessary. Sam stepped back and let Elsa take charge of her.

"Would you care for a drink, Sir," Andrew asked.

"No, thanks." He held out his hand and took the suitcase from Andrew. "Why don't you just go home, Andrew. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. Thank you, Sir."

He stood in the middle of the living area, not sure what to do next. He dropped the case outside Maddie's closed door. As he straightened, he heard their voices inside, the sounds of crying, and it stabbed him in the heart. _This is unbelievable! Nate! Why did he have to kill Nate?_ Sam retreated to the master suite, stripped off his clothes and tossed his bloodied pants into the trash. He considered doing the same with the shirt, because he didn't want any memento of this night. But it was one of his favorites, so he reconsidered. After a long hot shower, he finally felt as if he'd washed away the stains, but never the memories. _For just a few seconds, I wish Anson was still alive. That's all it would take to get my hands around his scrawny neck and squeeze the life out of him all over again. Thank God somebody in the Westen family had the chance to take him down. That's justice._

Sam couldn't sleep except for brief periods of snoozing, and considering that Elsa never came to bed, he supposed that Maddie was awake through the night as well. It was only natural. He couldn't even imagine how much it hurt to lose a child. It hurt like hell for him, for Mike's sake to lose his brother, but if Maddie's pain was any worse than his, he wasn't sure how she could handle it.

After breakfast, which Maddie ate mechanically, Sam and Elsa took her to the hospital to see Michael. It was strange to walk into his room and not see Fiona there by his side. Her absence made the loss even more unbearable. Pearce was there, which surprised Sam. She and Michael were talking when they entered, and she turned at the sound of their footsteps.

Pearce tried on a thin emotion laden smile for them. "Good morning. I was just getting a report from Michael on what happened last night. Mrs. Westen, did you shoot Anson?"

Maddie nodded. "He... he shot at me while I was going for the gun, but he missed." She shook her head. "I don't know how he missed. He was so close." Her eyes teared up. "But I got the gun and fired it before he got off another shot. He pitched forward into the wall, and then he left the house. I should have followed him and shot him again, but I was too scared. I called the police."

"It's okay, Maddie. You could have been killed if you tried to confront him again," Sam said with a supportive hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off and looked up at him. With anger in her voice, she replied, "If I had, Nate would be alive! Maybe I wouldn't, but he would be alive!"

"It wasn't a good situation anyway you look at it," Pearce spoke softly. "Unfortunately, things happened the way they did. But at least Anson is gone now, and Michael is free."

"Mom," Michael croaked. His hand lifted off the bed and reached for her. "I'm sorry about Nate, Mom. I wanted to stop Anson, but he flew down those steps and knocked me over, took the breath right out of me. Otherwise, he never would have made it to the garage."

"What's done is done," Maddie whispered as she took his hand and came forward to stand beside him. Pearce moved out of her way and stood back by Sam and Elsa. Maddie ran a hand through Michael's hair, and their eyes locked as they drank in each other's grief.

"Let's get out of here for a little bit," Elsa said wisely as she took Sam's elbow and led him toward the door. "Agent Pearce?"

"Yes. Coming." She glanced one more time at mother and son and keenly felt their pain. After losing the one she loved, she could understand how deep the cuts were.

Michael was released from the hospital in time for the funeral. He was in a daze, and not having Fiona there to hold onto him made things that much worse. He saw his brother lying peacefully in the coffin, and he wondered when he would wake up and tell everyone that it was just some sick joke he came up with. Before they closed the lid for good, Michael swept his hand across the lapel on Nate's dark suit, whisking away a piece of lint. His hand moved down to cover the cold ones folded at his brother's waist. A sob exploded from him, followed by another, and then his knees gave way. He wanted to climb inside and take his brother's place. After all, Nate was still married to Ruth. Maybe they could reconcile, and Charlie would have his daddy home again. But it was too late for all that. He knew better. Yet it didn't stop him from wishing.

"Come on, brother." Sam's gentle, soft voice served as a lifeline, and his hands kept Michael from collapsing completely. "Let's go sit down. Come on."

"No. I have to see him once more. I... I can't say goodbye."

The hands on his upper arms tightened, and Sam spoke through his own tears, his voice not so strong. "You have to, Mikey. He's gone. Your mom needs you to be strong." He sniffed a couple of times. "Get up. Take one step, then another. We'll get you back to your seat."

Michael let himself be gently driven toward the padded chair next to his mother. Thorough his tears, her face looked more like the mottled surface of an impressionistic painting. Nothing was clear. Behind her, he saw Ruth with Charlie in her lap. Despite whatever caused their rift, she was a mess with trails of mascara running down her cheeks. She still loved Nate, and his loss would affect her for quite some time. Sam set Michael in the chair, and Michael leaned into Sam even though he knew he was barely hanging on himself. Somehow they would all have to get through this. Anson was gone, but Fiona was still in jail. Sam said they found lots of evidence to sift through in Anson's car, as well as a hotel in which he was staying. Maybe those things would be what brought her home.

But right now, all that mattered was burying his brother.

Michael went to stay with Maddie, and they spent the first couple days like two bookends on the couch, staring into space. Now and then, one of them broke down and held the other. Sam and Jesse took care of them and made sure they at least ate something now and then and kept hydrated. This was so unlike the Michael Westen that Sam knew, but these were trying times and circumstances. He didn't blame him for being emotionally paralyzed.

Sam's phone rang, echoing in the stillness. It was late, Maddie dragged herself to bed, and Michael twisted himself into his sheets in his old bedroom upstairs. A floorboard in his room creaked every time he threw his body around and caused the bed to jerk slightly.

"Yeah, it's Sam."

"I need you and Jesse to come to my office as soon as you can."

"Mike and Maddie... I don't want to leave them alone. I'll call Elsa and see if she'll come." He almost said 'Fi'. After a couple months, he still hadn't gotten used to her being in jail.

"Hurry. We've got a lead on who's trying to kill Fiona, and we need to move on him as soon as possible." She hesitated. "Better yet, meet me at hanger 12 at the airport. We're taking a flight to DC tonight."

"Wait a minute. I thought you said Anson was trying to killl Fi."

"I was wrong. Yes, Anson wanted her dead, but someone else was pulling the strings."

"Card."

The line was silent for a moment until Pearce responded with an embarrassed tone. "Yes."

"You got it, we'll be on our way ASAP." Sam closed the connection and turned to Jesse, who stood in the kitchen doorway with a confused look on his face. "Saddle up, pardner, we're going to DC. I'll call Elsa and have her come over." He pushed speed dial and hit her number. "Hi honey, it's me. Can you come over to Maddie's and stay with her and Mike tonight? I have to go on a quick mission. I'll probably be back tomorrow sometime."

"Be careful, Sammy."

"I will, baby. See you soon." He smiled. "I love you."

"Love you too. I'll be there in a little while. I know where the key is to get in, so lock up."

He was proud of her. After Nate's death, he worked out an emergency plan with her just in case something like this happened, and she was ready and willing to participate. It made him love her all that much more. After he hung up, he shoved the phone into his pocket. "Elsa will be here in a little while. I'm going to let Mike know we're leaving."

"I'll be out in the car."

Sam climbed the stairs and carefully approached Michael's room. He could tell by his friend's breathing in the tiny space that he was awake. "Mike?" He called out to him softly, trying not to wake Maddie across the hall.

"Yeah, Sam." Michael sounded so weary, it tugged at Sam's heartstrings.

"Jesse and I are going to DC with Pearce." He entered the room and Michael turned on the bedside lamp. They squinted at each other until their eyes got used to the light. Sam sat on the edge of the twin bed. "You're not gonna like this, Mikey. Card had something to do with trying to kill Fi. Anson was scheduled to go in to see her and do the deed, but because your Ma killed him, he didn't make it there." He sighed. "Look, I don't wanna get into all the details, just wanted to let you know that Jesse and I are leaving right now, and Elsa is coming to stay with you guys until we return."

"She doesn't have to do that. Her dad..."

Sam held out a hand. "He's fine on his own, Mike." A slight smile crossed his face. "You should see the guy! He's as spry as ever. Must be all the babes, they're keeping him feeling young." A short chuckle came out, but he quickly squelched it. He replaced the smile with a sober expression. "Anyway, we're hoping we can wrap this up in a day or two. In the meantime, Pearce's people are working with the cops going over the evidence they found in Anson's car and hotel room."

"And?"

"Things are looking good for Fi. Just based on what Pearce has seen, she thinks Fiona will be released before the end of the week."

"Why? He was always so careful. Why would he leave evidence behind that exonerates her?"

"My guess would be arrogance. He thought he had the perfect plan, and at some point his pride drove him to record it. They found diaries, encrypted, of course, but the CIA broke the code. Everything he's ever done for the past five years, or more, is in those diaries."

Michael looked stunned. "So hopefully they point to this whole organization and how it worked, how they burned me and others, and created situations that forced us to work for them."

"Yeah, pretty heady stuff." He heard the thump of a car door. "Oh, that sounds like Elsa's here. I better go. I'll talk to you later, Mike."

"Thanks, Sam, for everything." Michael was still emotionally fragile, if his blinking eyes were any indication.

Sam was halfway to his feet, but he leaned over and gave his friend a quick hug. "It'll be okay, Mike. Eventually, you and Maddie will heal. We all will."

Without another word, Sam left Michael's room and hurried downstairs. Elsa came in through the back door, smiled at him, and moved into his embrace. He smelled deeply of her perfume and kissed the side of her neck.

"Be careful, Sammy."

"I will, sweetheart." He kissed her lips.

"I'll take good care of Maddie and Michael."

He smiled warmly. "I know you will. 'Bye." One more quick kiss, and he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

_Please note: I still don't pretend to know what's going to happen in Season 6. This is all my imagination!_

**Chapter 9**

Sam and Jesse got into the waiting car and left Maddie's house. Little did they know that they had a tail, an expert at following another vehicle in the dark without being seen. Just to be extra careful, he took a side street and separated from them, but his route would take him to the airport and get him there before his quarry would arrive. It worked. He watched the vehicle approach the gate, but he was already inside because he was also a master at breaking into places that were supposedly secure. He hid in the shadows under the plane. There was no way he was missing this flight.

Pearce parked the car and they all got out. Their plane, a small private jet, waited near the open hangar doors. With no luggage to be concerned about, it was just a matter of climbing aboard and they would be gone, so the trio fell into line and walked toward the stairs.

"Mike," Sam muttered as he spied a shadowy figure slip out from under the wing and meet them at the stairs.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Pearce confronted him as he stopped in front of them.

"I'm going along."

"You can't. We're dealing with Tom Card, your mentor, and anything you might be feeling will get in the way. Not to mention the fact that you're still mourning Nate's death. No, I can't have you getting in the way."

"I won't get in the way." Michael stood taller than he had in a week. "I promise. I just want to see his face, to hear his reason for doing this to me and all those other agents. That's all." His voice broke slightly, but he quickly got it under control. "Please, Dani!"

"We don't have time to argue about this." She scowled. "Alright, get on board. But if you even blink an eyelash wrong, I'm pulling you out and having you restrained in the ops van. You got it?"

"I understand." Michael nodded. His face lit up with gratefulness for being included.

As soon as everyone was seated on the small jet, it moved toward the empty runway and took off. There was no time to waste. While they watched Miami fade away, Pearce was on her phone talking to someone. Sam looked at Jesse, and Jesse looked back at him. Michael sat across from them, his eyes closed, looking peaceful for the first time in ages.

Sam lowered his voice so Michael couldn't hear. "I don't like this. Mike isn't ready for the big standoff."

Jesse replied just as softly. "Don't underestimate him, Sam. He's got a lot of strength, he'll get past his own feelings."

Sam's brow wrinkled. "Do you really believe that? Seriously? Oh, that's right, you didn't have him point a gun at you. And you haven't had a ring side seat to the grief he's been going through. Mikey isn't Superman. He's going to be affected by everything that's happened."

"Maybe this is what he needs to get over the hump," Jesse suggested.

"I hope you're right, because if he's not ready, I'm not sure Pearce'll be able to pull him out in time."

"Guess we'll have to wait and see. Wonder when we'll find out what the plan is," Jesse whispered.

"Hopefully as soon as Pearce gets off the phone."

Pearce ended the call, unlatched her seatbelt, and carefully moved down the aisle to stand in the row ahead of the three.

"Okay, we have a support team waiting for us in DC at Ronald Reagan Airport. They'll have tac team clothes for you to change into, flak jackets, weapons, everything. Then we'll head to Card's private residence and take him there."

"Take him. Dead or alive?" Jesse asked with an arched brow.

"Preferably alive. We want to get to the bottom of this whole thing. I hope to God there isn't someone higher than Card involved. I'm hoping that he's the heart of this."

"But why?" Jesse volunteered the question. "Why would he want to burn spies? Especially Michael? He was his protege."

"Yeah, it doesn't make any sense." Sam added. "Unless... maybe Card saw his own star fading in the agency, and by picking and choosing to burn some of the best, he could create his own little agency to do black ops stuff. Taking down the bad guys by any means necessary. It makes good press, and brings lots of glory for him."

"That's a possibility. Any thoughts, Michael?"

Michael glanced at them and shook his head. "I don't know," he said wearily. "I just want this all to end. I want my life back."

"If everything works out tonight, you will. That's a promise." Pearce smiled at him. "So, when we get to the airport, our team will be waiting, we'll get briefed on our positions and assignments, and go from there. Any questions?"

Nobody had any, so she went back to her seat and settled in for the ninety minutes left of their flight. Michael reclined and was surprised how easily he went to sleep. He was exhausted. He knew it, but this was one mission he couldn't bow out of, to go through this trouble only to hear second-hand why Tom betrayed him and so many other fellow agents. He burned to hear the truth from the man himself.

Tom Card's stylish two-story home sat in a wealthy suburb of DC covered by stately trees that swayed peacefully over the street and property. All the windows were dark when the panel van passed and stopped almost two houses down. The back opened and a dozen men cloaked in black clothes scurried out of the van and quickly surrounded the house. Michael, Sam, and Jesse were among the team covering the back, and two other team members prepared to open the door with a battering ram.

"Wait!" Sam rasped and pointed up to a window just to the left of the back door. A light shone through the filmy curtains. He and Jesse moved to just below it, and Sam waved Michael over.

They carefully gave him a boost up, and he used a mirror to see what was happening in the room. When he'd seen enough, Michael jumped down and hurried over to their team leader. "It's Tom, and he's in his office. He's got a gun on his desk top, so if you go barging in there, he'll be ready for a fight."

Jeff Jefferson, the team leader, put his hands on his hips and asked, "So what do you suggest we do, Westen?"

"We pick our way in, JJ," Michael replied and inclined his head toward Sam, who held up a lock picking kit.

"Okay, go for it. Just be quiet!"

Sam gave him a look. "Jeez, it's not like I'm some amateur." His boots were absolutely soundless as he snuck up the concrete steps and went to work. In seconds, the door was unlocked. He used a small flashlight to check for any booby traps or other devices, and satisfied that it was clear, he gave the signal. JJ led the way inside, and they followed with guns ready. A floorboard creaked, and they froze. Jesse pointed up. It came from upstairs, not their team. They waited a few seconds, confident that they were undetected, and continued toward the office.

Michael laid a hand on JJ's shoulder. JJ turned, and Michael pantomimed that he wanted to go first. JJ hesitated. Michael's grip tightened. Reluctantly, JJ nodded and waved him forward. To his surprise, Michael approached the closed French doors that were shrouded by light curtains from the inside, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Mary Beth, you can come in. No need to knock."

_Mary Beth?_ Sam mouthed the name to Jesse. Jesse shrugged. Out of their peripheral vision they saw the other team enter the house from the front, and two members went upstairs. If someone else was in the house, they would be found.

Michael gripped the door lever and pushed it down, releasing the latch and slowly opening the door. Card sat at his desk with his head down, writing something with such intensity, that he didn't pay attention to who walked into the study. The sound of more than one set of feet approaching, however, caused him to look up.

As long as he lived, Michael would never forget the pasty white, drooping face that Tom Card presented when he saw Michael, Sam, Jesse, JJ come into the room and two other team members stood guard outside the door. He quickly tried to save face and smiled, but it was too late. They knew the truth.

"Michael." He cleared his throat nervously. "What brings you here?"

"Anson's diaries. We know all about your plan, using him to create a pyramid of bad operatives burning good ones for nefarious ends."

"It's just your word, what you perceive from a dead man's fiction. I was only working for him, not the other way around."

"No, the CIA and the Miami PD have a whole lot more than that, Card," Sam replied with a voice barely kept in check. "By the time the dust settles, you'll be lucky if you see freedom again. Most likely, you'll be executed as a traitor."

Card laughed, but his eyes held fear. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Axe."

"Sam's right," Pearce said as she entered the room and stopped in front of his desk. "I've seen the proof for myself. A lot of things are falling into place now." She licked her lips and frowned. "You were responsible for my fiance being killed. I know that now."

"What?" Jesse's head whipped around to look at her.

"Yes. I was approached about joining a new team that was supposed to work on the fringes of the agency. They tried to recruit me, but something didn't smell right about it, so I refused. Then my fiance wound up dead. They thought by spinning his death just right they could convince me to turn, but I didn't." She paused and looked at Michael. "That's about when they started going after you in earnest."

"And what kind of information do you have to back up these fairy tales," Card asked as he stood behind his desk. "No, don't even try to answer that, sweetheart, because I know you've got nothing." He came around the desk, pushed Sam and Jesse out of the way, and stopped in front of her. "Now, you better get yourself and your little toy soldiers out of here right now, Dani, or I'll have the FBI on your asses so fast, you won't know what hit you."

"We're not leaving without you," Pearce retorted as she stood straight and refused to turn and run.

"Gonna be hard without your team." He reached into his pocked, pushed something inside, and suddenly the living room full of agents exploded into a fireball.

Glass flew into the room from the French doors, and the remainder of the team held up their arms to shield themselves from it. Card took the opportunity to rush around to the back of the desk and pick up his gun. The window behind him had been cracked by flying debris, so he kicked out the pane.

"No! Don't move!"

Card turned and fired, hitting Pearce in the flak jacket. The force pushed her to the floor.

"Dani!" Michael leaped up onto the desk. He made his move, knowing full well that Jesse and Sam covered him without question. He jumped off the desk and landed on Card before he could fire again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw JJ take up position to the side and fire. As the bullet made contact with his side, Michael realized that JJ wasn't on the same team. He crumpled to the floor as Card jumped out of the way.

All Michael could think about was the pain. The bullet got him in a place that was less armored on the jacket, and he placed a hand there, and it came back stained red. All around him the sound of guns filled his ears. He did his best to stay down and curled up, because in his state, all he could do was wait patiently for the fight to end. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long.

When Michael went down, Sam turned toward JJ with his assault rifle held up and aimed at him. JJ swung his around, but he didn't have a chance. Sam took him down with a short burst of bullets. Something hit Sam hard in the back and he sprawled over the desk, the rifle jarred out of his hands. He let himself collapse to the floor, all the while slipping his hand around to get his side arm. He lay on the floor, breathing hard. The bullet didn't penetrate his flak jacket, but it sure hurt, and he played it up until his assailant came into view. Then he pulled out the gun from hiding and put two quick slugs into the man before the rifle he aimed at Sam could blow his head wide open. A stray shot winged him as the dead man fell to the floor.

Pearce regained her feet in the melee, and she and Jesse held their weapons on the one surviving team member. Wisely, he put down his gun and placed his hands behind his head. "Please, don't shoot! I'm not with them."

"Prove it," Pearce ordered.

"Agent Ford, CIA. My ID is in my pocket."

"But how..."

"Hey, where's Card?" Jesse asked as he quickly scanned the room. "And where's Mike?"

Sam picked up his weapon from the floor and leaned out the window to inspect the back yard. "He was down. He got shot, I think." A bloody hand print on the sill caught his attention. "Oh no, he went after him. Come on, Jesse! Pearce, can you handle things here?"

"I'll be fine. Go, find Michael and Card."

The two men vaulted out the window and landed on their feet on the hard ground. Sam turned on the flashlight and scanned the grass. "There! That's gotta be Mike's blood. Come on!" He and Jesse followed the trail into the back yard. The property backed up against some woods, a perfect place for Card to take cover. With a flashlight, they'd be sitting ducks. Just as Sam turned it off, a shot rang out and splintered the bark off a tree close to his head. "Card! It's over! Give it up!" Another shot came close.

Jesse raised his rifle and fired in the direction from where both shots came. He knew he was taking a risk of hitting Michael, but it was the only option he had. Someone cried out after the second shot. It sounded like Michael. Jesse's heart went into this throat as he silently hoped that he'd done the right thing. He'd already shot Michael once in his life, and he never wanted to do it again.

"Mike! You okay?" Sam tapped Jesse's arm and whispered, "Go right, I'll go left. Hey, you know any bird songs?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just whistle a short one every once in awhile so I know where you are," Sam answered softly before moving away. "I'll mimic it so you know where I am."

"Okay."

Sam stepped carefully through the forest, avoiding dry brush and leaves that might give away his position. Things were too quiet, and that concerned him. He went in an arc around Card's last known location, slowly spiraling in to try to get around back, if he was still in one place. He heard Jesse's rendition of a robin at two o'clock. He tweeted back a robin song. Then he moved again until he heard rapid breathing, followed by a groan.

"You're not getting out of this, you know. I'll have you killed." Sam recognized Card's voice.

"It doesn't matter any more. The only thing I care about is taking you down, Card. You and your organization."

"But Michael," Card panted. "How many times have you wished you could do more to help people, instead of just what the government wants you to do?" He spoke the word as if it were filthy.

"You went about it the wrong way."

Sam was almost upon them now. He still couldn't see them, but their voices were clearer than ever. He stepped on a branch by accident, and it snapped. Gunfire erupted, and a bullet sliced into Sam's leg. With a cry of pain, his back crashed into the hard dirt and criss-crossing of roots.

"Sam!"

Card emptied his clip into the darkness, and Michael pressed his side arm into Card's chest. His instinct was to pull the trigger, but then his mentor would never see the inside of a courtroom or spend the rest of his life rotting in a cell. It was the least he could to, to make sure he wound up in a place like Fiona, caged up with no hope of release.

Card felt the metal against his ribs. In the dark, he smiled and whispered, "Yeah, kid. Try it, but I don't think you will. You're too good for that."

"You're right, I am. Unlike you, I want to see things go through proper channels now and then." He quickly shifted his position and shot Card in the leg. "There, now I know you aren't going anywhere until the _government _picks you up." For good measure, he got out a pair of cuffs, attached one side to Card's wrist, and the other to a thin tree. He ripped the empty firearm out of his mentor's hand, searched him for other weapons, and left him to look for Sam.

"Michael," Jesse called out. "Are you okay? Sam?"

"I'm over here, Jess." He lit up a flashlight to signal him.

"Oh, thank God, man. I thought you were dead. You got shot in the side!"

"Yeah, lucky for me it was just a flesh wound." He stumbled as he moved toward Sam.

"Flesh wound, my ass." Jesse lit up Michael's side. "You're bleeding! Hang on, let me see!"

"No, we've gotta worry about Sam."

"Ah," Sam gasped as he carefully sat up and cracked, "I'm fine, Mike. Just a flesh wound."

Jesse flashed his light on the red stain on Sam's right thigh. "Yeah, right. Man, I can't take you two anywhere without you getting shot up!"

"Hey, is everybody okay?"

"Dani, over here," Jesse waved the light in the air.

She crashed through the saplings and stopped beside him. "What have we got? There's a chopper coming to take our wounded to the hospital."

"Mike's got a side wound, Sam's right thigh took a bullet, and Card is secured over there." He turned the beam around to the man who waited helplessly with one hand cuffed to the tree.

"I shot him in the leg to keep him from running," Michael admitted.

Pearce huffed. "Well, no one could say this wasn't an eventful evening."

"How many are left from the team?" Jesse asked solemnly.

"We lost five, and that includes JJ and two of his henchmen. Card's wife was also killed in the blast."

"That's a shame." Jesse shook his head. "Well, should we keep these guys here until help arrives, or move them?"

"I can walk, just get me up," Sam protested. "Really, I've had worse!"

Pearce and Jesse got on each side of Sam and pulled him to his feet. He favored his injured leg as he limped back to the clearing.

"Somebody help him," Pearce ordered.

"Nah, it's okay. Really, it's just a flesh wound. Women!" Sam shook his head and continued to carefully walk out of the woods. Meanwhile, Jesse and Pearce lifted Michael to his feet. "Jesse, you better help him out of here. I'll keep an eye on Card."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

Jesse helped Michael out of the woods and was happy to see the chopper landing in the open green space. Someone opened the side door and reached for Sam, pulling him aboard. Two more injured team members climbed in, and Jesse helped Michael get inside. With a full load, the helicopter quickly rose. He wasn't even sure where they were going. He just hoped that it was a real hospital, because he'd had enough of the crazy mixed up game they'd been playing the past couple of years. It was time to get off that ride.

Jesse turned back to the woods to help Pearce with Card, but as he got closer, he heard a gunshot, followed closely by another. One team member stood on the fringe, gaping. Jesse glared at him as he ran past. "Come on, don't just stand there!" He ran into the darkness and used his flashlight to find the source of the shots. Pearce lay on a bed of dry leaves. Card still lay handcuffed to the tree, but the side of his head was completely blown off. In his dead, free hand he held a gun that was aimed at his head. God only knew where he got it from.

"Pearce! Hey, can you hear me? Dani!" Jesse crouched beside her and gave the light to the other team member, then reached for her throat. He searched and found her pulse, but it was fading. He bent down to put his ear up to her mouth, hoping to hear her breath. The pulse beat at her neck stopped. Without thinking, he ripped open her flak jacket. "Come on, Dani. Stay with us. Come on!"

It was then that he saw the real damage. Card had armor piercing bullets in that gun, and all it took was one to cut through the kevlar and sink into her chest. Her white shirt was stained red, right where her heart used to beat. If he'd thought about it, he would have realized that it was the same place where Nate met his death.

"She's gone, Sir."

"Yeah. Yeah, and so is he. This is how it ends, with no justice for all those people he screwed with. Dammit," Jesse muttered. He pushed himself to his feet and strode out of the woods, not caring what happened back there. He just wanted to find Michael and Sam, and maybe a quiet corner where he could let loose all the emotions that built up inside him the past weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"You and your friend were both lucky." The doctor stitching up Michael's side remarked as he finished the last suture. "If you'd been turned just a little more, we would have you on an OR table right now."

"And Sam?" Michael winced as he tested out the doctor's handiwork by reaching for his bloody shirt.

"Same thing. That bullet just scraped across the outside of his thigh. A couple inches the other way and it could have broken his femur, or worst case scenario, sliced through the femoral artery."

Michael held up his hand. He'd had enough experience with battlefield wounds to know the fatal outcome of such an injury. "Thanks, doc. Are we gonna have to stay here?"

"I would recommend an overnight stay, well, a one day stay, given that it's already a new day." The doctor glanced toward a window where they saw the sky lightening in the east. The sun would be up soon.

"We've got to get back to Miami."

"Then I suggest you both get your scrips filled, or you'll be in some major pain on the flight back." He scribbled something on a small pad, tore the sheet off, and gave it to Michael. "There's a pharmacy on the second floor where you can get this filled."

Michael took the prescription and tried to decipher the handwriting. He hoped that the pharmacist knew what it said, because it looked like a mess to him. He slipped off the exam table, and as he put his shirt on carefully, he said, "Thanks. I'll have to see how Sam is doing, and check in to see if we need to stick around to debrief. Then we're gone."

The doctor nodded. "Good luck, Mr. Westen." He turned and hustled down the corridor to his next patient, leaving Michael alone.

"Hey," Michael stopped a nurse as he came out of the cubicle. "Can you help me find my friend?"

"What's his name," the nurse asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Sam Axe."

"Oh, he's down here. Come with me."

As they neared the curtained area, Michael heard sounds of expressed pain. He fought the urge to wince in empathy for his friend and followed the nurse to the opening. She turned to him, indicated with her hand that this was the place, and he silently thanked her with a nod. Then she quickly went on her way.

Putting on a smile, Michael walked in. "Hey, Sam. Are you giving these people a hard time?"

Sam was too busy grimacing to notice at first that Michael had entered the area.

"Okay, we're almost done here, Mr. Axe." The doctor dabbed at the three inch gash. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Michael. "Who are you?"

"I'm his friend, Michael Westen."

"Ah. Well, we're almost finished here. I'm not going to stitch this up. I'm just disinfecting the area and he'll have to let it heal on its own. He may need some plastic surgery in the future..."

"Nah, I'll keep it. It'll give me a good story to tell," Sam joked even while his face still registered pain. "Well, maybe a not so good story." He looked up at Michael. "Hey, look at you! You dodged a bullet again, huh, Mikey?"

"Not quite." He held up his shirt and showed Sam the large gauze pad the doctor stuck there. "Twenty stitches. That bullet just raked me."

Sam winced. "How's Jesse?"

"Not a scratch on him, as far as I know."

"That's good. What about Pearce?"

"After checking up on you, I was going to call her and see if we need to meet with the higher ups before we leave."

"Well, I won't be here too long. I'll meet you out in the waiting room." He sucked in a breath through his teeth as the doctor finished treating the wound and bandaging it.

By the time Sam exited the emergency room in pants torn and bloody, carrying a similar prescription in his hand, Michael reunited with Jesse and heard the rest of the story. The two stood waiting for Sam with grim expressions on their faces.

"Do I really look that bad," Sam asked as he limped over to them. "Where's Pearce? I hope they've got Card in a nice secure cell, and they throw away the key. I never liked that guy. Now I know I was right on about him."

Michael's face took on a serious frown. "They're both dead."

"What?"

"They're running an investigation," Jesse answered. "But right now, it looks like Card shot Dani, and she shot back. She bled out. But Card," Jesse shook his head slowly, "One shot, and he was dead. She's a hero, man. If she hadn't shot back, who knows? He might have started taking shots at us heading for the chopper.

"Pearce is dead?" Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Mike, who'll be your contact at the agency?"

"I don't know," Michael answered. ""Let's go to the pharmacy and get these filled, because there's a car coming for us. We have to go back to HQ for a debrief before we even think of leaving for Miami." He paused, fighting the emotional lump in his throat. "Right now I don't really care. I just want to go home and try to get Fi released."

Fiona thought she was all done with Bly after the day she was arrested and he interrogated her, and he tried to make her think that Michael was dead so that she would admit to something she didn't do. The months in jail were depressing, and survival was the name of the game every single day. Her brief visits with Michael were the only thing that kept her going. That, and a desire to get out and exact some kind of revenge on the person who planned this trap for her: Anson. She sat in her horrible bright orange scrubs, chained to the table again, when Bly entered the small windowless room with a smile and a pile of things under his arm.

"Fiona, so nice to see you again."

"Go to hell," she muttered.

Bly tsked, dropped the stack on the table with a loud thud that made her jump even though she could see it coming, and sat in the chair opposite her. "You know, you could be a little nicer to me, since you might just get your freedom back today."

Fiona stared, doing her best not to give him the reaction he wanted. It was some sort of trick, she was certain of it. Her eyes threw daggers at him, which he chose to ignore.

"I want you to tell me what happened the day of the British Consulate bombing. But this time, I want the truth." His look softened as he folded his hands and leaned forward. "Ms. Glenanne, we know about Anson and how he played Michael, you, and his friends. We know Anson was responsible for the bombing of the lobby that killed those two guards. But what I want to know is why you planted the bomb just outside the consulate window?"

"It's a matter for the CIA, not the CSS, nor whoever you represent these days."

"You're a tough little cookie, I'll give you that." Bly smirked and sat back, crossing his legs. Then he looked directly into her eyes as he continued. "We know that Larry Sizemore was working with Anson, as were several agents within the CIA. Through an inter-department investigation, we learned what he was doing there. And I know you, Michael, and Sam were trying to stop him. Apparently, your good deed will go unpunished."

"What do you mean?"

Bly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again. "Despite your affiliation with a terrorist group in Ireland, and many many questionable activities here in the States, our government has decided that you're more of an asset out on the streets versus inside these walls." He pushed a folder across the table. "These are your release papers."

After the secrecy and turnabouts of the past six years, Fiona was wary. "Who authorized this?"

"The head of the CIA."

"I don't understand." She shook her head, in shock.

Bly studied her. "I would think you'd be jumping for joy and crying all happy tears because your'e going home."

"I don't get that emotional. I just want to know why. Is this some sort of trick?"

The mocking tone disappeared, replaced by one of seriousness. "No, Fiona, it's no trick. This morning, your boyfriend and his friends met with the CIA director for a debrief, and Michael... negotiated your release."

Fiona's mouth hung open. She feared that the negotiations involved signing his name on a dotted line, promising to be an agent for the rest of his life. Whatever Michael did, it couldn't have been easy or to his benefit.

"That man really loves you," Bly spoke softly with an equally soft smile. "I wouldn't waste the time, if I were you." He suddenly pushed his chair away from the table and stood. He picked up his files, tapped them on the table and said, "Good luck, Ms. Glenanne. And try to keep your nose clean, okay? I don't know if our government will be so lenient next time."

The door slammed closed, leaving Fiona alone to mull over her new situation. A few minutes later, a female guard came to unlock her from the shackles. She and another guard led her to her cell. When they stood outside and didn't leave, she asked, "What?"

"Pack up your personal belongings, Glenanne. You're leaving. Now."

Those words felt like a sucker punch to the gut. When Bly told her she was free, she didn't believe him. Now the guards told her to pack up. Part of her still thought it was a ruse, and that surely something more dark awaited her. Her natural wariness took center stage as she mechanically grabbed her few belongings and hurried out of the cell. All eyes were on her as they escorted her out of the bowels of the prison. Even when they handed her the clothing in which she arrived, she still could not believe that she was being set free.

"You can change in that room," the guard said and pointed her to a small changing area.

"Thank you." She closed the door, surprised that they left her alone without another guard watching. She closely examined the corners and edges of the room, looking for a hidden camera, but there was none. Still blindsided by this turn of events, she undressed and put on her old clothes. They still fit. She expected them to be a little loose, since prison food wasn't exactly her usual fare. As she slipped on her shoes, she unlocked the door and swung it open.

"You can leave your uniform in there," the guard said, and beckoned her to follow.

They walked the corridors that she remembered from the day she entered the facility. Eventually, they led outside, down a long fenced area that ran beside two workout areas, and finally ended at the front gate. A buzzer sounded, the signal that the gate was unlatched, and the guard waited until it pulled aside.

"You're free to go now, Glenanne. Stay out of trouble."

Fiona could only nod. If she only knew the kinds of trouble she got into with Michael! She turned toward the exit and took her first steps to freedom. It didn't feel any different than just walking, but the sun seemed to be brighter on the outside, and the air fresher. She took a deep breath, tilting her head toward the sun.

"Fiona." The voice cracked, and Fiona's head straightened.

"Madeline." A wide smile crossed her face. She was hoping that Michael would be there to meet her, but his mother was just as good a sight to see.

Maddie hurried across the parking lot and took Fiona into her arms, hugging her close. "Fiona, it's so good to see you!" She pulled back and took her in. "You look like prison didn't mess you up. But I bet you could use a good meal! Come on, let's go get something to eat, and then we'll head back to Miami! Michael is on his way home from DC. You know he was up there on a mission?"

"I heard something, but not much."

Maddie's smile faded briefly, but it quickly returned. "That's okay! I'm sure Michael can tell you all about it later! Right now, we need to get moving if we want to meet his plane! We'll grab something to eat along the way, okay?" Maddie clutched Fiona's elbow and led her to the car.

It was all Fiona could do to keep from laughing. Her smile beamed as she let Maddie take control. She dropped into the passenger seat, and she barely had her seatbelt on before Maddie lit a cigarette and put the car in gear. She secretly hoped the woman didn't get a speeding ticket on the way home. Home. That word rattled around in her head and sounded so good. It would be even better after she had a chance to sit down with Michael and talk. So many things needed to be said, and the sooner, the better.

Michael was glad to be back in Miami. That struck him as odd at first, but then he realized that his reasons for being there were so different than they were six years before. He wasn't being dumped with a lot of unresolved issues in his life, including being burned. This time, he was back in the agency's good graces and his personal relationships had been healed. All but one, that is. And he was about to remedy that as soon as possible.

"It's nice to be back home, isn't it," Sam mused aloud as he limped along beside his friend and they made their way across the concourse to the main area where they were supposed to meet Maddie. "Feels weird without Jesse, though."

"He'll be back. He just needed some time to regroup." Michael smiled, thinking of their friend on his way to relaxing on some beach in the Caribbean, soaking up the sun and the women, while sipping on mojitos.

A shadow fell across Sam's face. "I think he had feelings for Pearce. He really took her death hard."

"Really? He didn't say anything to me," Michael said as he glanced at Sam.

"Yeah, well, you kinda miss those things sometimes, Mike. They're not always verbal, you know?" He sighed. "Anyway, I hope escaping for awhile will help him get back in the game."

"How about you?"

"Me? Elsa's gonna freak when she sees this," Sam replied as he glanced down at his leg. Before leaving, he commandeered a new pair of pants which hid his injury. "You think she'll believe me if I say it's just a flesh wound?"

Michael laughed and shook his head. "Maybe. But you know she'll still be alarmed."

"Yeah, you're right." He frowned, but then a smile warmed his face. "Oh well, I guess I can look forward to lots of TLC after she's done scolding me!"

They reached the main corridor and heard someone calling, "Michael! Over here! Michael!"

Their eyes locked on Maddie standing nearby, grinning. It made them both feel good, because she hadn't looked that cheerful in awhile. Until the crowd cleared, he had no idea why.

Fiona looked leaner than Michael remembered, more muscular, but her skin glowed in competition with her smile when she saw him. Tears of joy stung his eyes.

"Oh my god, Sam. It's Fi." Michael's words came out softly when he saw her. He took a few strides that Sam couldn't match, moving toward her as if there were no other people around. She gently pushed away from Maddie and hurried to him, and they collided in a heap of arms and lips, collapsing to the floor. Bystanders walked around them, looking down and wondering at the sight, but they didn't care.

"Fi. Ow, careful. Oh, it... it's so good... to see you..." He spoke between breaks in their kisses. "I never thought I'd..."

"Shh, Michael." Fiona answered him. She cradled his face in her hands and bathed him with kisses. "Let's just be glad that it's over, and that we're together again."

When he came up for air, Michael said, "There's so much we have to talk about."

"Oh yes, but it can keep for later." She smiled at him. "Right now, I just want to be with you." She helped him stand and asked, "What happened back in DC?"

"I'll tell you all about it later, or at least what I can," he replied, and with a big smile, said, "Let's go home."

"I'm all for that, brother," Sam echoed as he managed to catch up to them.

After a nice welcome home dinner out, Michael and Fiona prepared to go home. They stood in the parking lot with Maddie, her car parked next to Michael's. He gave her a warm hug and said, "Thanks, Ma, for picking up Fi at the prison. You know I could have done it, but..."

"You were on your way home, Michael. There was no need to keep Fiona there longer than necessary." She pulled back, caressed his cheek and hers with her hands, and said, "You two have a good night. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, Madeline. For everything." Fiona blinked away tears.

Michael opened Maddie's car door and let her inside. He closed it once she was in, and she started it up, waved, and drove away. He let out a deep sigh.

"Is everything okay, Michael?" Fiona looked at him with concern.

Michael turned back to her with a smile. "It will be, soon."

He kissed her with such passion, she didn't expect to be pressed against the car. But she quickly recovered from her surprise and wrapped her arms around him, her hand cupping the back of his head as she silently entreated him to give her more. He groaned and pulled away, and she smiled at the desire in his eyes.

"Let's go home, Fi."

She nodded eagerly and got into the car. When they arrived at the loft, he let her inside and closed and locked the door behind them. After being in prison, she hated locked doors. But for this, she could make an exception. Fiona barely gave the loft surroundings a glance, because there was only one thing on her mind. Michael came up behind her and walked her to the bed. She turned and flopped on her back, kicked off her shoes, and called him with her eyes. His smile widened, and he obliged.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Michael," Fiona spoke his name as he absently played with a lock of her hair. She lay in the crook of his arm, snuggled close.

"Yes, Fi."

"How did you get me out of jail?"

"The diaries Anson left told about how he planted the bombs in the British Consulate. There were other pieces of evidence, once they bothered to look at what they had, that pointed to him. So there was no longer a reason to hold you. Other than killing Larry." He paused and shifted so he faced her. "But the CIA wasn't interested in prosecuting you for that."

"Of course. The government wouldn't want to publicize a rogue agent attempting to undermine his country."

"Exactly. When I had my debrief, I made sure that the director knew that if the state continued to hold you without cause, there could be... issues." He smiled. "He was only too happy to arrange for your release."

"I was afraid you had to sign your life away to a new devil."

"No. I lost too much being a slave to the agency, then the burn notice, and finally Anson. I'm done with all that."

Her eyes widened and her breath caught. "Done? You're quitting the agency?"

"Not quite." He gave her a small smile. "I'll still do some jobs for them, but on a limited basis. Right now, I want to take some time off, time for us, because I haven't done that. I haven't given you the time you deserve."

"Thank you, Michael." Her hand roved over his chest, but he captured it and held it, his thumb tracing patterns in her palm.

"Fi, you don't have to thank me. I did it for you, and for us." His voice, choked with emotion, came out in a whisper. "I know now how much you love me, and what did I do? I left you no choice but to give yourself up for me, an act I didn't merit. Then, when you were gone, I couldn't stand being without you."

"You were in my heart, from before the time I walked up those steps of the Federal building, to the time I walked out of the prison a free woman." She leaned over him and kissed him slowly. "You never once left my side." She kissed him again. "I love you."

"I love you, Fi." He took her in his arms, and pressed his cheek into her hair. "And I'm sorry that I didn't love you the way I should have. I want to make that up to you, starting now." He kissed her, pressing her close, and showed her the depth of his feelings.

In the morning light, he looked down at her, still entrenched in sleep. His fingers played with her hair, mussed and tangled from the night before. He never thought she looked more beautiful. She'd gone through so much, waited so many years for him to truly love her the way she loved him. When she gave herself up, it was the ultimate sacrifice. No way could he ignore the seriousness and depth of her emotions, and there was no way he could continue to deny that his ran just as strong and deep for her.

"I would do anything, give up anything, for you, Fi," he mumbled. Despite a stab of pain, he twisted and laid a kiss on her cheek as his fingertips played lightly over the side of her face.

Fiona's eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him. "Michael? Are you okay?"

His smile was bright as he answered, "Never better, Fi." He kissed her deeply, and she molded herself to him. He ignored the unpleasant signals his body was giving him, because he wanted her to know that he meant what he said. He would give anything for her, even personal comfort. When he broke away, they were both breathless, so he spent a few moments just looking deep into her eyes and caressing her. "Fi, we need to talk. I need to talk."

"About what?"

Michael turned away, put his feet on the floor and got into his pajama bottoms. Then he turned and stood, held out a hand for her to get up and get dressed. "I need to talk about what I've done to you for the past six years, seven, eight, whatever. However long it's been since we've known each other."

Fiona smiled with amusement. Leave it to a man to forget how long! "The time doesn't matter." She got up and threw on a robe, then sat down on the bed again.

"But it does, because I wasted so much of it on this burn notice, and my job, and everything but our relationship." He sat beside her. "What matters is that I didn't love you. I mean, I didn't treat you like I loved you, when all this time I did. And I do." He groaned and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know how to do this!" His head rose and he looked directly at her. "I was so focused, obsessed really, on finding out who burned me. Through it all you stood beside me, helped me, and loved me even when I didn't show you my love." The word came out in a whisper as a look of agony crossed his face as he asked, "Why?"

"Love is patient, Michael." Fiona answered with a smile, as if it were really that simple. Come to think of it, it was, now that she understood that he truly did love her and that he'd been hiding the depth of his feelings for so long.

"Then you must love me a whole lot, Fi! You should have left a long time ago!" Tears stung his eyes.

"I did, sort of, when I dated Campbell. I tried so hard to get you to be jealous." She shook her head. "But your head was too far buried in your burn notice to see."

"No, I saw. I knew what you were doing, and I was jealous." He shook his head. "There were times I wanted to beat up something, rather than face the reason you did it. Then I tried to tell myself that you were better off with him because I could never give you what you wanted."

"Only you can give me what I want."

"I know that now." He reached out and took her into his arms. Into her hair, he said, "Thank you, Fi, for not giving up. I don't deserve the kind of love you've given me. I shouldn't get a second, or even a third, chance. But you've given that and more, time and time again." He sniffled. "You're too good for me."

"No, I'm not." She pulled back and placed a finger on his lips. "We were meant to be together, and nothing will change that. That is why I stayed and put up with everything. You are mine, and I am yours. Forever." Her voice was a whisper, but to Michael's ears it sounded like an angel song.

"Fi, if I ask you to marry me, will you ever regret saying 'yes'?"

"I don't think so," she replied with a smile. "Are you asking?"

He framed her face with his hands. "Yes."

Her smile widened and turned into a grin. "Yes."

A soft moan came out of Michael, and he captured her lips with his. "I'm sorry..." He kissed her. "I wasted... so much time..."

"I forgive you." Fiona spoke. "Now, let's not waste any more."

The team remained incommunicado for a week. Jesse returned from his vacation, still hurting but rested. As he got off the plane, his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Jesse, are you back in the States?"

"Yeah, I just got off the plane. I need to grab my luggage, and then I'm heading home. What's up?"

Michael answered with a light tone, something Jesse hadn't heard in awhile. "I want to ask you to meet us at my Ma's house. In a couple hours."

"Sure, I'll be there. What's up?"

"I can't tell you over the phone. Please, just show up."

Jesse let out a small chuckle. "Sure, no problem. Everything's okay? You and Fi good?"

There was a hesitation, but when Michael answered, he couldn't detect anything wrong. "We're good. We'll see you in a couple hours."

The conversation ended, and Jesse shook his head. He didn't know what to make of that phone call, but as Michael's friend, he would be there. They'd been through some tough times together with Fi and Sam. So whatever it was that Michael needed help with, he would be there.

Sam's phone rang as he and Perry finished their last round walking the pool perimeter. It was good exercise for Elsa's father, and a little rehab for him to get his leg back in shape. "Mikey! How are ya? Haven't heard from you in a week. Things with you and Fi okay?"

"We're fine, Sam. How's the leg?"

"Getting better every day. It's no big deal, just a flesh wound, remember?" He glanced at Perry and mirrored the grin the older man wore.

"Yeah. Anyway, the reason I called Sam, is I need you."

Sam's expression sobered. "Sure brother, what is it?"

"Come to Ma's house. Can you be here in an hour?"

"Yeah, sure. What's up?" He shrugged at Perry's look of concern.

"Nothing's wrong. Just show up, bring Elsa, and... and dress up a little."

Sam's eyebrows rose. Something serious was happening. "Okay, we'll be there. Talk to you later, brother!"

"Is everything okay," Perry asked.

"I think so." Sam still looked puzzled. "Mike wants me and Elsa to be at his mom's house in an hour. Something is going on, but I've got no idea what it is. He wouldn't say. Usually it has something to do with a mission when he's that secretive." He shook his head. "I don't know."

"You better get a move on, then. You have fifty eight minutes and twenty nine seconds." Perry grinned and slapped his back lightly. "Elsa's over there." He pointed to the outdoor bar, where she stood talking with the bartender.

"Thanks, Perry. I'll see you later." Sam quickened his pace, at least as much as he could, and approached her. "Elsa, honey, we've gotta go to Mike's mom's house. Something is up, I don't know what it is, but he asked that we be there in an hour. Less than an hour now."

"Okay." She turned back to the bartender. "Remember what I said."

"Yes, Ms. Holloway."

Sam grabbed her elbow and gently pulled her away toward the elevators. They rode up to the penthouse and changed, and as they left, Perry got off the elevator. He smiled at them and said, "You two have a good time."

Sam's eyebrow rose. "Do you know something we don't?"

"Nope! You both just look like you're going off to have fun." He smiled. "Make sure you have my daughter home by ten." He winked, turned and laughed as he entered the living area.

"I don't know why he gets such a charge out of that." Elsa muttered as they got into the elevator. "I haven't been home before ten since I was in high school!"

The couple arrived at Maddie's and entered the back door as usual after announcing their arrival. Maddie was in the kitchen, her hands full of plates of food that she carried into the dining room.

"Do you need help with anything?"

Maddie turned to Elsa, a wide smile on her face. "Oh, no thanks, honey! I'm just glad you could make it! Fiona and Michael have kept this under wraps like it was a big op or something, and I've been so happy for them..." She broke off and let out a breath. "They're getting married. Today."

Surprised, to say the least, Sam asked, "Why didn't Mike say something?"

Maddie shrugged. "He wanted to keep it a surprise even to his best friend. Don't ask me why, but he did."

Elsa looked up at Sam, and he mirrored the surprised expression on her face. "Who, um, who will be their witnesses?"

"Well, Sam, of course! And a friend of Fiona's. Her name is Lillian." She set the plates down on the already filled table. In the center, a simple, yet elegant, white frosted tiered cake stood out from everything else. "Lillian made the cake. Isn't it beautiful?"

Sam glanced at Maddie. In her eyes, was certain that a mud pie would have been beautiful, as long as her older son was marrying the woman of his dreams. "It's nice."

"Don't mind him, Maddie. Guys just don't get it."

"Come on in the living room, Elsa, and you can meet Lillian!"

Left alone, Sam looked over the spread and snatched an olive from the relish tray. He popped it into his mouth as the guest room door opened and Michael appeared in a dark suit. Sam gave him a good once over and smiled. "You look good, Mikey!"

"Thanks," Michael smiled thinly.

"Hey," Sam closed the distance between them and spoke softly. "Are you nervous?"

"I haven't been this terrified since... well, a really really long time. What's wrong with me?"

"Come on, let's go out back." On the way, he took a quick detour into the kitchen and pulled out a couple of beers from the fridge. He pushed Michael out the back door with one hand and joined him in the shadows under a tree. "It's a hot one today. Here, take this. You need it."

"Thanks, Sam." He twisted the cap, but it wouldn't budge. Growing quickly frustrated, he gasped when it cut into his hand.

"You okay?" Sam easily popped the top off his bottle and handed it to him. "I'll take that one. You didn't cut yourself, did you?"

Michael held the bottle in the hand he scraped and shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Except for being nervous." He took a large swallow of his beer.

"Don't worry, Mike, everybody goes through this. I'd be more worried about you if you weren't suffering from the jitters!" He took a swig of his beer. "It'll be fine."

"This is for real, Sam. Forever."

"I know. I think you can handle that." He winked at his friend. "So when did you guys decide to tie the knot?"

"The day after we got back and Fi was out of jail. I woke up that morning, and i just watched her sleep." Michael developed a dreamy look in his eyes as he remembered it. "I couldn't make her wait anymore. We would probably have gone that day and gotten married, but you know, we had to get a license and all that."

"There's always Vegas." Sam teased, and he laughed at the face Michael gave him.

"I wanted this to be right. Fi didn't want anything big, just close family." He sighed. "Unfortunately, none of hers could make it. We were hoping if we held off a week it would give them time to arrange it, but things in Ireland right now are... well, it's complicated. Not even Sean could make it."

"That's too bad. So who's this Lillian?"

"An old school friend of Fi's. She jumped at the chance to come. She's never been to America, and this was as good a reason as any!" Michael smiled.

"Feeling a little better?"

"Yeah." He held up the bottle. "I think this is helping a little. Having you here helps a lot. Have I ever told you how glad I am that I took that assignment from Lucy, the one she asked you to help her with? If it hadn't been for that, who knows how long it would have been before you and I got back together."

"Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't had my help on that case, huh?"

"I could have done it alone."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, here you go with the lone wolf crap again. Remember what we agreed?"

"You agreed, I'm just going along with it." Michael's eyes held a mischievous sparkle. "No, I promise, we're a team and that's the way it'll stay."

"Boys, the minister is here, and Fiona is ready! Come on inside!" Maddie called them from the back door.

"Well, this is it," Sam said as he took the empty bottle from Michael's hand.

"Yeah. This is it." He swallowed and turned toward the house.

"Got any plans for afterwards?"

Michael looked back and replied with a smile, "We're going to Paris for a week... or two."

Sam grinned. "Congratulations, Mike! Now, that's what I'm talkin' about! Get away from Miami for awhile, relax, and have fun." He frowned, put a hand on Michael's shoulder, and stopped him in the laundry room. "Now, wait a minute. You're not going on a mission, are you?"

"No," he replied with a growing smile. "The only mission I'm on is to make Fi happy."

"Well then, you better get your butt into that living room and get started!"


End file.
